


Heaven Can Wait

by blueaurora



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Demons, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blowjobs, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Half demon yunho, Heavy Angst, I will add tw on the notes !!, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Blood, Modern Setting, Mutual Masturbation, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, Pining, Psychological Trauma, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Destruction, Selfharm Scars, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, attempted comedy, childhood friends to lovers to enemies to lovers again, demon hunter wooyoung, exorcist san, like sex, like super slow burn I warned you, madeup drugs, mentions of mass murder (in the past), sex under the influence of alcohol, woosan are the childhood friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueaurora/pseuds/blueaurora
Summary: Turning twenty-five, Yunho has, in no particular order: a magical seal on the core of his being, an annoying demon coexisting within his own body, fire licking his fingers at the most untimely times, Jung Wooyoung driving him crazy, an iffy exorcist casting spells on him at any given chance, all the bad luck in the world, a heart too big to fit his chest and a dozen of problems.or Yunho is a panicked, tongue-tied, worst luck holder half demon, Wooyoung is a demon hunter with a very loud sexual life and a deep trauma haunting him to sleep and San is a shameless rulerbreaker, tired of sameness exorcist. In some hilarious turn of the events, they end up sharing a flat together.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 39
Kudos: 70





	1. all this back luck

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to another chaptered fic that will make me go insane at 4 am!  
> If you know me, you know... yunwoosan is my biggest treasure. I am always thrilled to write about them, I can totally say it is some kind of selfcare.
> 
> First of all, thank you for giving this fic a chance, I hope it doesn't dissapoint you <3  
> Before we start, I want to make sure this fic won't pull a trigger. Please read the tags and realize I decided to tag it Explicit. This is basically because of the Overdosing and use of drugs tags, as well because one of the character goes through some deep trauma and two of the pair (woosan) starts off with a little bit toxic relationship. Let's just say woosan's characters are a little bit broken and do things.... that are not that healthy....
> 
> There's not going to be anything that detailed, but I still feel this fic can hurt a little. At least, from my pov.  
> Also, this got me overthinking a lot so I'll be adding it: this is not the 'my lover interest saved me from depression' story. Healing is a process and it requires from time, you can heal together, but love won't immediately save you. I'm telling this bc of Wooyoung's character and his super sad backstory. To be short: he will lean on his partners through the healing process. 
> 
> Anyway, if you squint this is just college yunwoosan.
> 
> One again I'm so happy to be sharing my work with you, I hope we can have a good time together!!!
> 
> I love world building so you can take chapter 1 like a prologue. 
> 
> Love you all, blai.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho pouts, pulling a little from his own hair. He is walking around in three hours of sleep, and maybe, also walking into what appears to be the worst week of his existence. 

* * *

There's always a moment between 12 AM and 5 AM where Yunho would lie with eyes wide open and stare at the old, dirty and cracked ceiling of his even older, dirtier and more cracked room. 

It's not because he can't sleep but actually because during the early morning everything that's loud and rampant fades away and he can finally have a soft conversation with his inner self. Pour a little strawberry tea in some fancy cups and put on some music, maybe something from Tom Rosenthal. Calmly go over his day.

"How was your day?" Inner Yunho would ask.

And with a dry, short laugh followed by a sigh, Yunho would sip in silence and soulless stare right into Inner Yunho's eyes.

"I wish someone would shoot me already."

Inner Yunho would nod and agree with him, but just because he is part of Yunho's early morning fantasies. It would be stupid for him to go against himself. 

Sitting in bed, fingers scratching the skin of his abdomen, Yunho repeats to himself that he doesn't want to die _die._ Living in the core of Seoul has just shaped him sarcastic, maybe too much for his mother's taste. But what else can he do? He grew up in between murmurs about the _White Flamed Demon._

With the arrival of March, the only thing people would talk about is the twentieth anniversary of the disappearance of the _White Flamed Demon._ And maybe that's one of the reasons Yunho's mind has been as cracked as his room for the past few weeks. 

Taking advantage of his secret avoiding technique, he was able to seep through the low conversation inside dark and foggy clubs for a few years. Catching nothing but the glimpse of that name coming out of dry lips. Yet, the incoming anniversary had people covering their lips with one hand and passing stories mouth by mouth until they were actually reaching Yunho's ears. 

Biting down his lip, Yunho has to nod and act like he cares about all the theories behind the sudden fadeaway of the demon. 

_'The hunters caught him after he tried to eat a woman's heart and ripped his head off. My father says they have his head hanging from the wall like a trophy,'_ say some.

 _'I heard the exorcists caught him first, just before he set an entire club on fire. Now they keep him down, alive. I bet they're torturing him!'_ say some others. 

_'Aye. My friend told me that a friend told her how she saw the demon flirting with some high schooler. Apparently she got pregnant with the demon's child and they're raising it together,'_ it is something Yunho has been hearing more and more during the past days, sending shudders down his backbone.

The White Flamed Demon got, indeed, a woman pregnant. But the woman was already in her thirties and they didn't run away to raise the poor little half demon. They fell in love. They stayed in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. They got married. Then decided to never use the demon powers to browbeat the citizens again. Then, they started fighting because he didn't keep his word. And then, Yunho was five years old and caught up in the middle of a human-demon divorce. 

It was just then, when he was spending the days and nights alone inside a paper-thin walls house always filled with fighting, that he realized he could flame up white fire on the cup of his hand. 

The day he first manifested his powers, was also the day he decided to stand before his mom and kindly asks his father to leave the town. And with kindly, he totally means trying his new and exciting fire powers against him. 

His father obeyed without a word—and missing an eye.

It's been twenty years since then and Yunho is a little pissed off at the reputation the man left behind for him. Yunho is none but his son, another White Flamed Demon. And the only one staying in the city right now, meaning it would be a pain in the ass if someone happens to find out. There's three outcomes sketching at the back of his mind:

#1. The citizens report him to the hunters and he loses his head. _Literally._ Demon hunters are the ones that make sure demons don't crawl their way out of hell—Yunho knows that is bullshit, because there is no hell and he was born like any other human. Still, the fact the hunters get their hands dirty with demon blood is not as much bullshit. Shudders kiss every vertebra of his spine with the images of bloody hands and deformed expressions of madness furrowing the hunters' faces as they hunt him down. They all say they are maniacs, and Yunho believes it.

#2. The citizens report him to the exorcists instead, because the humans are fonder of exorcists. Contrary to the hunters, the exorcists are the good guys. As good as keeping demons hostage around extra painful seals for the rest of their lives can sound. Exorcists don't kill. They take care of haunted places and modern medicine. They also follow the same rules as hunters, but they value life a little bit more. They also are famous for not being bloody maniacs, always wearing perfectly ironed whites clothes and gusting smiles.

#3. Yunho loses his mind and ends up covered in blood. It is the most likely to happen, as Yunho has no clue about how to control his powers. 

His mother decided to raise him outside the demon world after what happened with his father. So scared her sweet baby would turn out to be like him, she left no stone unturned until she found an underground exorcist that could cast a seal strong enough to contain the power inside. Yunho never learned how to use it, and all the rumours and stories floating around like dust in the air have him burning up from the inside for the first time in years.

One single spark will be enough to break the seal. If the demon power doesn't kill him first, there's high chances of him going rogue. 

_This is fucking exhausting,_ he thinks. And Inner Yunho leans in to pour more strawberry tea. _I'm the one constantly living around flames_ , Inner Yunho seems to be saying, and Yunho proceeds to brush that scenery out of his mind. Everything turning pitch black.

Yunho sighs heavily, falling back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. He tries to sleep, but the sun is breaking through his window already and dazzling on his face. 

"Wow. You look horrible," Yeosang takes a hand to his face, covering his lips. Yunho sighs as a reply, plopping down into the chair in front of him. "Are you finally losing your will to live?"

Yunho pouts, pulling a little from his own hair. He is walking around in three hours of sleep, and maybe, also walking into what appears to be the worst week of his existence. 

He woke up to a broken water heater. Lost the bus, having to walk to class. He arrived late to his lab, getting both nagged by his teacher and his hoity-toity PhD partner. To make it worse, he got stuck on the elevator with two girls whose conversation was filled with theories about the White Flamed Demon ( _"I heard he can grow some fire wings and travel at the speed of time," said One. "Do you think he can travel in time? Could he go back to his younger self and walk around unnoticed?" Said Two. "No, thanks," internally screamed Yunho)_.

Humans really have the wildest imagination when it comes to demons. 

Arriving at the cafeteria, Yunho realizes his stroke of bad luck is not taking a lunch break, wallet nowhere to be found and surely forgotten somewhere in the mess of his room, so he also walks around with an empty, furious stomach. 

Yeosang's taunting expression isn't helping at all with his efforts of getting rid of the frown already carved like marble on his forehead. 

Yunho ponders what to say next. _Eat ass, Yeosang_ , doesn't seem the best one as he is one hundred two percent sure Yeosang actually likes eating ass. _Shoot me, Yeosang,_ isn't also the best one, not because he is scared Yeosang actually fulfills it, but because he would get interested and without a warning Yunho would be spilling all his secrets to him. 

"Are you going to eat that?" He decides in the end, pointing a finger at the muffin still untouched in Yeosang's tray.

"No," Yeosang slides the tray towards him, both hands resting underneath his chin. He squints, lips pursed in a tight line. Yunho thinks it will be for the best to just focus on his first meal of the day: a cold cheese muffin. "Say, Yuyu. When was the last time you got laid?"

Yunho is extremely ashamed of how he spits the only bite he took right into Yeosang's face. 

_Worst week indeed._

His friend freezes, and so does Yunho. For a moment, they stare into each other's eyes meanwhile the murmurs grow bigger around them. The last thing Yunho needs today is for the _Kang Yeosang Love Club_ to aim for his jugular. Yeosang takes a napkin, wiping away the soggy crumbs out of his face with a disgusted grin.

Yunho gulps in fear.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I forgot you always act like a virgin," Yeosang sighs, then widens his eyes. "Wait. Are you actually a virgin?"

Yunho clears his throat, pushing the muffin aside against his stomach's whimpers. Yeosang won't let him have a calm meal. 

"I am not a virgin. I got laid, like, a month ago." 

Yeosang raises one of his perfectly shaped brows, resting his head over one hand. Yunho holds his breath inside for twenty agonizingly long seconds, not breaking eye contact. Internally praying his lie is strong enough for Yeosang to not make more questions. It burns on his tongue like acid. 

"So it is that," Yeosang lets out a languid sigh. "No wonder you look so cranky. Blue balls?" 

Yunho bites his tongue and the acid moves in waves to the innermost part of his tongue, sending cold shudders down his spine.

"It is not that. I'm perfectly served," Yunho groans, leaning back into the chair.

He is not a virgin, but it is quite embarrassing to admit in front of the campus sweetheart that his first time was also the last. Sweet sixteen year old Yunho learnt two things in one single night: first, he can come thrice in a row without even feeling torn—call it the demon's endurance—and, second, the shudders of pleasure shaking his body are enough to weaken the seal containing his power. It's been nine years but the freaked out expression of that boy he met in a club when white flames started licking every inch of Yunho's skin is still haunting him at night. 

Luckily for him, the boy was too high to even remember his name in the morning, and he surely thought it was all part of a weed-induced dream because no hunter knocked on Yunho's door after that. 

The flames keep appearing every time he touches himself in certain ways that make his thighs twitch and his spine tremble. So, for the sake of his own head, he is staying out of the normal sex live for now.

Yunho's kryptonite: pleasure. But also: madness. Meaning he can't enjoy a healthy relationship because he will flame up in white, but he can't get mad at it either because he _will fucking flame up in white._ Really great of life to make him that way. 

"Are you into boys or girls?" Yeosang asks, tilting his head. "Because I can arrange something for you. A month is a lot for a dick. Don't neglect your dick."

Yunho hisses. 

"Stop talking about my dick like I am not here."

Yeosang grins amused, shamelessly batting his eyelashes at him as he says, "I think it would be good for you if I have a private talk with your dick."

"I am perfectly fine," Yunho groans, looking away because Yeosang actually has some pretty nice pink lips.

Yeosang moves back, getting rid of that alluring grin way too fast to be actually thinking what he just told Yunho.

"I'm gonna guess you don't have a mirror in your apartment. Your skin," Yeosang decides to go this way, letting out a constant, low sound of disagreement, "what have you done to your beautiful skin? It's all dry and peeling."

First, Yeosang is overstating. Yunho's skin looks normal, maybe a little bit paler than usual and maybe dry around his nose, but it is not peeling at all—he really hopes it is not, fingers skimming the skin of his cheeks. Second, in the case Yeosang is telling the truth, Yunho would blame the sudden spoilage of his skin to all the stress he has been under the past days and not his neglected dick.

"Why are we friends?" Yunho growls. 

Yeosang wiggles his fingers in front of his face, big sparkly eyes on display, almost like he wasn't talking about dick just one minute ago.

"Because I am cute." 

Yeosang is cute, indeed. Yunho met him at the beginning of the year, at some party he doesn't remember how he arrived at. Yeosang was already there, singing from the top of his lungs, giving his all while sheathed in leather jeans and a short, translucent crop top. Yunho knew Yeosang from before that, as they both decided to stay in Seoul's University for their PhD degrees. Yet, he never really looked at him the way he did that night. And who knows why, Yunho decided to corner him later that night to praise his perfect interpretation of Mariah Carey's _All I want for Christmas_ (it was barely the beginning of September, though). 

Yeosang, with a big smile, introduced him to Wooyoung. 

Yunho sighs loudly. He can't really stand Wooyoung. Not for a particular reason at all, as they're not even friends. Wooyoung is Yeosang's friend, Yunho is Yeosang's friend, and every time Wooyoung tags along Yunho suddenly remembers he needs to finish a project. They haven't had a proper conversation in the past six months. There's something around Wooyoung that just makes Yunho uneasy. Something he can't quite describe with words, but it is close to fear bathing his stomach.

His demon self always shakes with agonizing cries when Wooyoung is around. And Yunho is too busy avoiding him to stop and try to understand what it is.

Also, Wooyoung is hot. The type of hot that totally roots in Yunho's brain. Constantly living with his very delicate condition, Yunho isn't that dumb to fuel his own, inner and literal fire.

Speaking of the devil—and making Yunho growl low because Wooyoung has been out of the city for two weeks and he decides to come back _today_ out of all days, almost like the world is really coming for his balls—, Wooyoung drops like a dead body next to Yeosang. 

"Ah, Woo," Yeosang is already hitting one of his arms, not even greeting him properly. "Don't you think Yunho's skin is looking like dried peppers?" 

_I swear to God, Yeosang._

Yunho fidgets on the spot when Wooyoung raises his gaze, eyes slightly falling onto his face. Yunho's not sure what exactly makes him hold his breath: Wooyoung's dark eyes, Wooyoung's eyeliner, Wooyoung's pissed expression, Wooyoung's silver lip ring. Maybe a mix of everything. 

"It looks the same as usual," he shrugs, not giving it a lot of importance. Yunho is pretty sure Wooyoung doesn't even have a clue about how his skin looks normally, and wow, how much that pisses him off.

Yeosang, not happy with that answer, presses both hands onto Wooyoung's cheeks. He ignores the way his friend complains, applying too much strength into the hold Wooyoung ends up surrendering with a frown. 

"Look," he says to Yunho. Looking into Wooyoung's squished face just makes Yunho's stomach freeze. "Are you seeing this skin? Smooth, moisturized, elastic." Wooyoung frowns, letting out a muffled and puzzled _thank you_. "This man takes dick five days a week like it's mandatory. His hole is like the hotspot of the city. He is a little slutty so he is totally down to take two at a time if you're good enough."

Wooyoung tilts his head, still unable to fight Yeosang's sudden strength. His eyes turn dark, the coalblack engulfing his usual toasted caramel irises.

"I'm going to murder you," he spits through gritted teeth, and Yeosang ignores him. 

"You should totally try it, Yunho. Whether you are into girls or boys, you should try Wooyoung's hole. It will make your skin dazzle."

Something inside Yunho clicks, an old machinery starting its mechanism after years of sleep, gears clicking against each other rowdy and distracting. For a stupid reason, a flash of Wooyoung's blushed cheeks while he takes dick flutters at the deepest part of his mind. He can't take it anymore. 

He stands up, heart on his throat. The chair thuds at his back, but he couldn't care less about that right now.

"I need to finish a project," he grits, like always. "See you."

He is already walking far away from the table when Yeosang starts laughing. 

"You're turned on! I just know it! _Au!_ Woo, you dickhead! You didn't have to punch me on the fucking throat." 

The last sentence comes out as harsh as Yunho's breath. He can already feel the flames eating him from the inside. 

﹢

Before everything started to go downhill because of his powers and a run-down seal, Yunho's dream was to open a little bakery down the suburbs of Seoul. His mother ran a bakery way before she got pregnant with him, and one of her biggest regrets is selling that tiny shop to give Yunho the life he deserved—read: paying that shoddy exorcist for his useless seal. 

Growing up baking cookies in the small kitchen of their cozy apartment, Yunho promised himself he would end up bringing that bakery to her, even if it would be the last thing he would be doing.

Inner Yunho mocks him from time to time, when Yunho feels funny enough to allow him to go against _himself._ Inner Yunho says Yunho is avoiding his demon responsibilities, and Yunho laughs because, _what kind of responsibilities does a demon have?_ Inner Yunho doesn't answer because he doesn't know, just as Yunho.

Demons just vibe. Nothing as gore as the rich, good-for-nothing high-ups of the city like to spread on fancy, million-dollar worthy receptions to celebrate the joy of being alive. Not blood drinking, not even organ eating—Yunho hears that a lot. Not a fierce instinct of murdering, actually. Just weird quirks. Just like superheroes, but as they turned up like the villains of every fairy tale, they can't be superheros.

And maybe the fact demon powers make them look like hideous creatures—scales, eyes consumed by the dark, the entirety of flesh flaming up among a long list—doesn't help a lot with their never ending quest for demons rights. 

Yunho is sure demons don't have bigger drives than making it through another day. No big responsibilities. 

And he just wants to bake cookies.

Even when he spent six years with his nose stuck inside biochemistry books. And now he is embarking on a long PhD degree road just so he can get the best job the city can offer him, and get tons of money to buy his mother her bakery back.

A tiring, long plan, but the best he could find without having to break any rule before. 

For the sake of that purpose, he never missed a library session. Until today. He is furiously kicking a tiny stone on his way back home because of how badly Yeosang messed up with his head. He is already guilty enough for unknowingly fearing Wooyoung to pour even more guilt around with the weird and unbidden images of Wooyoung spread open and begging for cock.

He is so mad at Yeosang. 

Even when he doesn't consider himself Wooyoung's friend, he knows a lot about him. Both Yeosang and Wooyoung are highly popular around the campus, both for their looks and swanky sex life. Even when Yunho wasn't aware of how many dick Wooyoung takes a week, he knew how good the boy is at it. When people aren't talking about his father, they're talking about how good Wooyoung is in bed. How pretty he sounds when he is all filled up. How exquisite his hips move. How exhilarating good his moans sound in the middle of all the skin against skin melody. How wet can he get—

Yunho is stopping in the middle of the road, hands on fire. Literally on fire. He looks down at his own hands horrified, heart giving off its last beat before deciding to stop and let Yunho there. It drops to his ass with a screeching wail. Yunho's eyes widen, nervously flailing his arms in the air, trying to put the fire out.

Just his fucking luck. The only reason his father caused so much havoc on his days resumes to the white flames being eternal. It requires an immense amount of control to be able to put the fire out, and right now Yunho's mind isn't in the right place to do so.

Yeosang is right. He needs to get laid and he needs to do it ASAP.

In panic, he runs into a nearby alley, scared any passersby can witness it, pressing both hands into the cold surface of the wall. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to think in something that isn't Wooyoung and his dick. Natural disasters, a dog licking their own hole, the hairy ass of that chemistry teacher he had in his second year.

Slowly, his heart opens the backdoor and comes back, restarting its beats. Yunho's body cools down a little, fingers going back to normal without leaving a trace of what happened there. He moves down, knees crashing into the floor, an obnoxious sound coming out of the deepest part of his throat. 

Yunho remains on the floor for a second and then, the sound of feet scratching against the ground alerts him. All his nerve endings set on fire, head flying fast to the source of the sound, all his suddenly awoken demon senses taking over his body. He feels the way his brain works faster, eyes zooming like the lense of a camera into the silhouette standing by the end of the alley. A boy with flamboyant red hair, maybe as tall as him, stands there. Lips parted, eyes opened so big they're about to get out of his sockets.

Yunho cries out internally. 

_What the hell is wrong with this day?_

He stands up, slowly, pointing a hand to the boy. What does he do now? He is sure the boy saw him and the flames and it's not even pondering the idea of him being a poor human that got his hands on fire on his way back home. He must even know who he is, pondering right now what to do. What will it be? The hunters? The exorcists?

Yunho's brain is analyzing everything so carefully he is soon getting sick at the intruding thought roaming there. The boy has a very exposed throat.

Does he need to kill a young boy? Is he really pulling off outcome #3 this fast? 

"You're a demon," the boy says in a deep voice.

_Oh, lord, just kill me already._

Yunho is really about to disappoint his mother. 

"That's so cool!" The boy is suddenly jumping forward, destroying Yunho's bubble of thoughts. His demon evaporates so fast he can actually feel it squeezing between the grooves of his insides. Intruding and damply unpleasant. 

Yunho stands still, eyes scrutinizing the boy's face. This time, he does it with his human eyes. The boy's eyes are lighting up, almost like he holds thousands of tiny stars inside. "I thought there weren't any demons on this side of Seoul. This is a relief, I was starting to feel alone."

Yunho ducks his face to one side, forgetting about the fact the boy is wearing different colored shoes to just stare at him with the most genuine curiosity borning out of his unsteady heart. 

"I'm Mingi," he introduces, reaching out a hand for him to hold, not really being good at reading the mood. "A shapeshifter demon. I come from Incheon."

Yunho parts his lips, blanking out for a second. A demon. Another demon, he means. Standing right in front of him. He is so overwhelmed he finds himself jumping forward to squeeze the stranger into his arms. His secret is safe. 

"Oh, shit. I'm so glad you're a demon. I didn't want to kill you," Yunho dramatically cries out, nose shamelessly rubbing against the boy's neck.

Mingi moves aside, opening his eyes in fear now. It's the way he pushes him apart what makes Yunho snap, horrified that he just… Hugged a random man in a dark alley. Oh God, what kind of image is he giving off now?

"Why would you do that?" Mingi asks, one hand gingerly covering his yugular. Yunho wants to laugh, at least his demon brain works fine. To spot critical spots, not quite what his mother would be happy to learn.

"Because," Yunho starts, then frowns. Realization internally smacking him. Mingi comes from Incheon, and maybe he hasn't had enough time to associate the name of the White Flamed Demon to what he just saw, even when it is actually obvious because the one that came up with that name was lacking some imagination that day. "Well, because I thought you were human."

Mingi scrunches his nose, moving a few steps backwards to cross his arms. He purses his lips in a pout as he speaks. 

"How could you think I was a human? I could sense you from the other side of the street." 

Ah. So it is that. Yunho's poor—basically nonexistent—demon training had led him to not only being unable to control his powers, but also ignoring the existence of other demons. He can come up with a way of murdering someone in one second but not spotting demons. What a great use of his own demon brain. Just as if the day wasn't already bad enough, he is now the weird kid among demons. 

Mingi sniffs the air around him, closing his eyes. Yunho jumps backwards, taken aback by the sudden gesture.

"Wait," he says, fluttering his eyes open. Yunho swears he can see a few red specks glimmering on top of the light brown of Mingi's eyes. "You kind of smell different now. A little like rotten eggs."

Yunho gasps, unexpectedly offended by that.

"Don't smell me."

"It's like the exorcists smell," Mingi wrinkles his nose.

Double great. Shoddy exorcist was not only useless, he also impregnated him in his nasty scent. Yunho covertly smells the back of his hand: he reeks of sweat, both because of the stress he has been put under today and the fact he couldn't take a shower in the morning. But aside from that, there's nothing wrong with his smell. 

"It might be my cologne, I got it from a peddler," Yunho brushes it off, slightly sniffing the air this time, just in case the smell floats around him instead of getting attached to his skin. The only smell he gets it's the one from the stagnant water splattering in puddles all over the hallway. "Pleasure to meet you, but I have to go."

He really does need to get to his apartment as soon as he can. They're still standing in the unsafe area for demons of Seoul. Too many eyes waiting for them at the end of the alley.

"Wait," Mingi stops him, fingers enclosing around Yunho's wrist. His eyes sparkle in such a pure way Yunho's heart painfully shrinks inside his cage. He just tried to kill an innocent, kind human shaped butterfly (not the best example he can come with, actually). "I don't have any friends here. I came to earn some money, you know, the big city is dangerous for demons but everyone says you get well paid. Yet, I need tons of money, meaning I will be here for a while. It would be cool to have a friend to hang out with from time to time." 

Yunho takes a deep breath, staring into his glassy eyes. He doesn't want a demon friend. He doesn't _need_ a demon friend because that would be getting in between his perfect plan of being a baker that has nothing to do with demons and whatever type of responsibilities they have. But even when Yunho knows shit about being a demon, he knows plenty of other demons.

They live among humans, and there are as many types of them as stars in the sky. Seoul is known for having the best hunter team, but also the best jobs for demons. Down on the slums of the city, demons buzz like champagne, the safe area. Which means Mingi will eventually realize what kind of demon he is, and that could be a problem if said demon just rejected his puppy eyes and nice company and broke his heart in the way.

So Yunho smiles, deceivingly, placing a hand on top of Mingi's hand.

"Of course," he says, outtoned. "I don't have any demon friends either. It would be nice."

Mingi jumps around, cute squeals of happiness seeping through his lips. Yunho feels how his soul detaches from his body and abandons him in a funny cartoonish way. 

"Here, let's exchange numbers," Mingi excitedly tends his phone, and just like that Yunho is saving a demon's phone number with two red hearts just because Mingi added him with the counterpart of white hearts. "Yunho," he says his name with a big smile. "That's a cute name."

"My mother got it for me," Yunho bites his tongue way too late, burning inside with embarrassment. 

_What's wrong with me!?_

In front of him, Mingi just laughs. Music flowing through his lips, making Yunho's heart swell a little. He never thought a demon could sound that beautiful. He is pretty sure Yeosang would think it is not fair at all. 

"You're cute. I like you."

"Thanks," Yunho's cheeks glisten in crimson red. "I should get going. I have… Stuff to do."

He bites his tongue hard just in case his brain decides to betray him again and he ends up actually saying _demon stuff._ He is sure demons don't talk about their stuff like that. 

"Right." Mingi puts his phone back into his pocket. "I'll text you."

"Okay. Bye."

Yunho makes sure to wave his hand at him thrice, turning around a few times before he is leaving the alley and actually sprinting down the vividly street until he is reaching the narrow streets of the slums, dying inside because of how stupid he is.

At least, he is not thinking about Wooyoung anymore. 

﹢

The world was not always like this.

Yunho is too young to know about it, but three hundred years ago the only demons walking around humans were the ones inside their own heads. World history describes the first apparition of the very first demon as doom days; the ground cracking open, skies turning gray, thunderstorms hitting the roofs, a pestilential sulfur smell emerging from the deepest part of hell where a hideous creature was crawling its way from.

Yunho is sure the first demon was as scared as everyone else finding out he was one. If he has to imagine the very first demon crawling out of hell, Yunho imagines it freaking out and crying for his mom, which makes doom days quite hilarious. 

Demons don't come from hell, because hell doesn't exist in the first place—and if it happens for it to exist, then Yunho is already praying for heaven to await for him the moment he leaves this world. 

Demons are called so because no one really knew what they were. People with dark powers, randomly being born in human families at first, sticking to demon families after all the human disavowal. 

_They are weird! They must be demons!_ The typical. Everything that doesn't fit inside the human ready-reckoner is automatically labeled as a demon.

Demons are, actually, pretty chill from Yunho's perspective. And just like Mingi, they usually come from Incheon or small towns that no longer are in touch with the Seoul government. There's only two parts in the country where demons will be haunted without respects: the core of it all, Seoul, and the home of the exorcists, Namhae. 

Yunho really had the luck to be born in Seoul. Not able to leave because of his mother's health condition.

Seoul is a big, crowded city. Tall buildings and neon lights flashing from every corner, the home of the richest families of the country. Seoul is the safest place if you don't want to get murdered by the hands of spiteful demons whose families have been haunted for decades. But like every coin, there's always another side. 

The slums. Surrounding the core of Seoul, narrow alleyways and cracked buildings. No law, home for half the gangs of the city and also all the demons that come into the city to save some money into their pockets. Inexplicably, the hunters haven't noticed them yet.

The slums are Yunho's home, of course. 

With a listless sigh Yunho finally reaches the narrow and half cracked aisle that leads to his apartment door. His legs are trembling from all the running and his shirt uncomfortably glues to his back with all the sweat he dripped. He daydreams of taking a warm bath and going to sleep smelling like everything that's good—the freshly baked cookies smell, for him, but also coconut as that's the scent of his shampoo. 

He is suddenly remembering the broken heater as the tiny silhouette of his landlord sketches in front of his eyes and his apartment's door. Yunho takes a hand to his face, something eerily close to a sob dripping from his lips with the thought alone of getting inside his bed all sweaty and smelling like his inner demon pissed his pants. Or maybe it wasn't the demon at all.

Yunho takes a deep breath, internally cheerleading himself to put on a kind smile before walking towards the tiny man that's calmly waiting for him by his apartment door.

"Mister Lim," Yunho cordially greets, showing his best college attire, both arms bended behind his back _just in case._ There's no need to test the waters, he knows the ocean is angry today—and for some reason, it is particularly angry at Yunho. "It's great seeing you here. Actually, the heater broke this morning, so if you could change it–or I will change it, no problem. Just letting you know."

Mister Lim is actually a nice human. Old and wrinkled, eyes nowhere to be found in between all the folds falling from his forehead. He has always been nice to Yunho. Not an expensive rent and a bottle of soju on his door from time to time—that Yunho ends up forgetting at the back of one cabinet because drinking makes him silly and flaming. 

"Ah, Yunho-ah. That won't be a problem at all," the man says and Yunho smiles. "Being honest, I'm here because you need to leave the apartment before the month ends."

Yunho isn't smiling anymore. For just a brief second, he dozes out, and then he is screaming internally and incoherently and totally making a weird, agonic face because Mister Lim is soon gesturing in the air.

"It is not because of you. You're a good kid, Yunho-ah."

 _It is not you, it is me, really?_ Yunho is sure if his thoughts could get transcribed into words, they would be all in pointy capitals, with a lot of exclamation points following. He can't believe he is going through breakup with his landlord and he dares to throw that line at him.

"A big business man is buying the entire building. This place is already falling to pieces, so there was nothing we could do," Mister Lim sighs, pouring more tiredness over Yunho's skin. "I'm so sorry."

Yunho holds tight onto his own hands, pressing them together, painfully digging in the middle of his back. He can feel the fire shamelessly licking his fingertips. Inner Yunho getting bold enough to get a tight grip of his shoulders, lips brushing on his ear as he speaks. _Stop containing yourself, Yunho. You know I can help you. Everything would be easier if you let me go._

Yunho's body trembles, perfectly knowing that voice is nothing but an unbidden thought coming from the deepest part of his brain but still feeling real lips skimming his skin. He gulps, and then he is punching Inner Yunho and destroying their tiny tea party to shove him inside a room. He puts on the door's lock.

Smiling again, Yunho feels his stomach slowly melt to his feet.

"It's okay. I've enjoyed living here," not a lie. "I'll be out as soon as possible. Don't you worry about me, I'll be fine." That, that's totally a lie. Yunho isn't sure he will be meeting the end of the day if things keep escalating this quickly. 

With a deep bow and showing his gratitude towards Mister Lim for treating him so well for the past four years, Yunho is sending the man off. He can't barely move, tripping with his own feet and crashing in the floor.

He meets his hands red, not sure if because of how hard he was holding onto them or just the fire stuttering right under the surface of his skin.

Now what? 

His forgotten phone buzzes in his pants, but if Yunho actually waits for it to be the glimmer of hope, he actually wasn't paying attention to all the things happening at once today.

 **mingi ❤❤:** I arrived home safely! how about you?

Yunho's most adequate response is laughing out loud, sounding a little bit like a maniac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was it???? let's talk!! 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_blueaurora) | [coffee](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/bubblesani) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sanios)


	2. a hard day's night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho jerks his arm back, the exorcist's nails scratching his skin and hooking on the thin strand of the rainbow colored beaded bracelet Mingi made for him. The sound of the pieces crashing against the ground buzzes loudly on Yunho's ears.
> 
> "Wait," the exorcist speaks softly, moving one step closer, trying to get a grip of Yunho's sweater this time.
> 
> His fingers blunderingly close around empty air. Yunho is already running fast, internally cursing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading I want to apologize if there are typos or the story is not written that well. idk i've reading a lot lately and I've noticed the impact of english not being my mother tongue makes on my writing. aside from that, I hope you can enjoy this chapter <3

* * *

Yunho is fucked up.

And not in a _'oh no I don't have money to pay for rent'_ way because there's, basically, _tragically_ , no rent to pay for. Yunho is fucked up and kicked up—and he is pretty sure he will be up to more misfortune as he wakes up on Monday and there's a stray cat lapping up itself on top of his chest. And also, broken glass splattered all over his living room. The soft breeze of mid March tousling his already mussed hair through the big hole in his window augurs bleary days.

He doesn't bother cleaning up the mess because he has now only three more weeks to find a new place to crash before the entire building is coming down to ashes. As tempting as it sounds, Yunho has enough with his own fire and ashes. He spends the breaks between looking for apartments wondering what they will build here. In the middle of the slums. 

The thought of the core of Seoul absorbing the slums crosses his mind once a day and he can't help the strangled sound that reverberates inside his throat in response every single time. 

Exactly what he needs the most right now, hunters mercilessly walking around the only safe place for him. The ton of shit—and it is a big hell of one—Yunho inherited from his father will make his death in the hands of hunters a total nightmare. He is sure of that. Even when he wasn't the one causing it, he knows how spiteful hunters are, and Yunho not only carries the same ears and pointy eyebrows, he also carries the same powers of his father. 

Peachy, indeed. 

It's been a week already. Spending hours scrolling down every rent house page he could find—half thanks to Yeosang half because the stress creeping at his back doesn't let him sleep at night—, empty wallet getting heavier in the pocket of his pants as the prices just kept going up. And up. Maybe he is fucked in two ways; there's no way Yunho finds a bargain like his current apartment in three weeks without finding a part time job first.

Add another thing to his long list of things to find: a home, a job, tons of strength to make it to his twenty-five birthday. 

"How much do you earn for your _special_ job?" Yunho asks Mingi on Tuesday, walking down the nooks and crannies of the slums, the deepest and darkest parts where humans don't step in. Demons walking around in their full forms, a lot of sorcerer's stores displayed, carved in the middle of the stone walls like gold ore ready to be harvested. 

Mingi pulls him out of his apartment in the morning and Yunho is too tired to fight him back, uncomplainingly allowing Mingi's fingers around his wrist as they slowly leave the human world behind their backs. The red haired demon wants to buy something Yunho couldn't ask its purpose because it sounded very _demony_ and he couldn't just brush his cover as a well esteemed demon from the big city out like that after everything that occurred to him. Yunho feigns knowing the area when Mingi asks him for directions, which turns out to be a very bad idea because he doesn't have a clue about where they are going and a woman wearing nothing more but dark green scales and bat wings just winked at him as they passed next to an inn filled with needlelike claws demons laughing out loud.

Mingi is walking front, hand under his chin, thoughtfully going over the name embodied in either neon lights or cursive golden letters of every store they walk past and ignoring the way Yunho's body persistently shrinks. 

"Are you sure we are going the right way?" Mingi ignores his question as well, or maybe he didn't get it either because of how focused he is or the way Yunho speaks through the tight line his lips have turned in since they stepped outside. "There's only medicinal herbs stores and taverns here. If I had wanted to treat you to a drink I would have chosen a human place. You know, they have better beer."

As if Yunho could know that.

He huffs with a fake laugh, gulping right after. He doesn't even remember the name of whatever Mingi wants, neither how it is supposed to look like, which maybe could help him to think of a place that could sell it.

"Ah, hmm. I thought it was this street. It should be near, though."

Mingi looks at him over his shoulder, shooting him a gusting smile. 

"Okay," the boy stops to wait for Yunho, walking side to side again the next second. Yunho tries to distract his mind roaming around the unknown and kind of magical place. It looks totally like a normal street from the slums, but for a hidden reason, the air feels less heavier there. "Have you found a place to live?"

"Not yet," Yunho bites the side of his cheek. "It's been just a week, though. I'm sure I'll be able to find something."

He really hopes for that to be true.

"I wish you could crash at my place, but I'm already sharing it with other six dudes," Mingi sighs deeply, overly confident in rubbing his head against Yunho's. The boy freezes at the sudden show of affection, fortunately not awakening any fire inside of him. 

Yunho wonders if his body is exhausted to the point of not being able to summon his demon anymore. Which might be the first good thing happening to him in the past week. 

Adding to what Mingi just said, Yunho can only slowly shake his head in a no, gesturing in the air and thanking Mingi's gratitude. His dream life doesn't resume to sharing a small flat with seven gangsters demons—but that's a thought he is saving for himself only.

"About your job," Yunho tries again, wouldn't minding at all turning into a gangster if that saves him from living with seven of them, "is the pay good?"

Mingi moves back to his standing posture, lips curling in a pout.

"Yeah. As good as it can be for all the things I have to do," he adds, grinning with a mix of dread and tiredness. 

Yunho takes a hand to his chest, fingers unconsciously creasing the fabric of his shirt, slightly fretful of finding out what kind of duties demons have. He can't lend a voice to his inner concern as Mingi is soon jumping forward and pointing at the wooden, slightly dancing with the wind, sign of the store that suddenly lies in front of them as they turn around the corner. Tiny, embedded in the wall, beautifully decorated with white wood and golden scraps and big showcases.

_Sun and Moon._

"It is here, right?" Mingi's voice buzzes with delight and Yunho freezes again, eyes wide open. He wishes his demon would be nice and wake up for a brief second to tell him what the store is supposed to be selling. 

It kind of looks like the antique stores his mother likes to go from time to time. A lot of different and never seen before enamelware disorderly displayed behind the showcase, laying over a velvety purple cloth. Everything bathed in copper and silver. 

"Yeah," he stutters in the end, deciding that if the store turns out to not be what Mingi is looking for, he will just play dumb—and maybe leave the city and start from scratch. 

Mingi smiles, jumping inside without fear. Yunho has to follow him, with a lot of fear.

He might be half a demon but he spent the majority of his time hanging out with his human half. He doesn't know a lot about the demon behaviour, having difficulties to understand what Mingi is talking about in their daily text messages (Yunho adds a lot of emojis to make up to the lack of demon slang in his own database and maybe that's the main reason Mingi was holding his hand two days after meeting each other). 

Maybe Mingi isn't smart enough to see through it, or just too nice to call Yunho out, but the young kid reading tarot cards behind the counter, real sparkles dripping from his eyes with every blink, looks like the type that could read Yunho pretty well. And for the way he smirks at Mingi, the type to shamelessly spill all of his secrets in what it takes a heart to pump blood to the toes. 

Yunho stands quietly in one corner, trying to fuse with the amount of velvety cloth that surrounds the inside of the store as Mingi gets closer to the counter. He asks for that thing—an opal anchor, that was it—and Yunho gulps. Eyes on the boy's face, amazed at how the light drips from his eyes just to dust out in gold in the air before reaching the surface of the counter. A demon with light powers. A _sorcerer._

For the way Mingi smiles, it seems like the world finally decided to give Yunho the much awaited break. So he takes his chance and fills his lungs with the musky but kind of magical air thinning the store. 

And then, a hand falls on his shoulder. 

Yunho jumps back, maybe acting more defensive than he needs to. The hand falls off his shoulder, eyes following the movement until he is staring into the silver eyes of a dainty man standing in front of him. Maybe three heads shorter, red hair perfectly tucked behind his ears and leaving his forehead on sight. Older than the boy from the counter, but also having some magic dazzling in his eyes like the sunlight reflecting over the moon's surface. 

"Hello," the man says, dandy voice sounding like music, the chirps of light cascading from his eyes to his kind smile.

Yunho awkwardly bows, hands bent behind his back. "Hi." 

"Is there something I could help you with?" 

"I'm actually waiting for my friend," Yunho shakes his head, eyes taking the way that leads to Mingi. Right now, his friend seems to be having a hard time choosing between eight same looking stones the young boy is providing him.

"Fire powers?" The man says, Yunho's head moving so fast he feels something popping at one side of his neck—a main artery, he hopes. 

"Excuse me?" His voice comes out strangled. 

"I can sense it. You have fire related powers," the man says, slightly sniffing the air around him. Far from getting offended by that—but for real, people should stop smelling him—he gets worried the sorcerer is able to sense the seal as well. These types of demons are known for owning very perceptual powers. "It's weak, but it's there. Are you a hybrid?"

Yunho sucks in a breath, nodding in silence. He knows demons aren't fond of hybrids because of all the pain the human race has brought up to them. But sorcerers are filled with light, and this one man has such an amicable face. Even Yunho can pinpoint he has no hidden intentions. 

"I see. It's not easy for hybrids to control their powers," he says, genuinely feeling sorry for Yunho. It warms Yunho's heart. "Can you lend me your hands?" 

Yunho acts a little reluctant at first, fingers shaking at his back and an already known burning sensation licking the back of his throat. The sorcerer's eyes, though, are kind and eerily spellbinding. Enough to have Yunho's arms hanging loose at each side of his body the next second.

With a beam of light, the sorcerer takes one of his hands between his own, thumbs moving along his life line, and then all the other lines he never really learned how to identify and name. It's quite like he is reading his future, making his next words horribly hurtful. 

"It's so dry," he mumbles, brows slightly furrowed. "I can see how damaged your skin is. Dry and sore, you must have a very strong fire."

Yunho gingerly looks over his hands. They look totally fine. Pale and filled with soft lines and _smooth._ He washed his hands that morning and they were as soft as always.

Remembering Yeosang's words, he falls into a pit of realization. Maybe he is turning blind because of the unremitting _bad luck‐stress-whatever curse he was casted_ he has been submitted lately and can't actually see the way his skin is peeling off—which he hopes it's not the case because then he won't ever leave the house again. Oh, well, fuck, he is being kicked of the house anyway. 

"Don't worry, it's not visible," the sorcerer says, almost like he is able to read his mind. Yunho's cheeks dust in soft pink, trying to not lurk around the idea of the big secret he carries with him being unveiled today. "Wait a moment here."

The man is letting go of his hand and disappearing in between all the passageways the cloth folds in. The store must be really big, if he thinks in all the purple velvet cascading around him and how it takes two whole minutes for the man to come back—Mingi is starting to piss the young tarot reader off with his hesitation. 

"Here," the man places a vial—filled with something close to golden glittery hand cream—on his hands, giving him a soft pat in the way. His fingers are warm, fizzing like champagne on Yunho's skin. "Apply this after using your powers, it will calm your skin, and," he places a set of velvety burgundy gloves then, "wear these if you lose control of it. It's fireproof cloth, it will keep the fire in."

The man purses his lips in a lopsided smile, eyes turning uncanny. Yunho holds tight around the items, nose wrinkled certainly of the sorcerer being able to read further than him being a simple fire demon. He just hopes he didn't use his trip to alert the hunters because Yunho is not up for torture today. 

"Thank you. How much–"

"It's on the house," the man cuts. "If it goes further than your hands, pay us another visit. We'll be glad to help."

Yunho nods, totally bewitched by those silver eyes.

"Thank you so much."

The man is soon moving away, feet barely making sound; it kind of looks like he is floating around—and Yunho wouldn't be surprised; maybe just amazed. After another five minutes, Mingi is happily hanging from his shoulder and they're both walking away from that magical store with content hearts. 

﹢

"Can I ask what's that for?" Yunho allows himself to ask once they're back into his apartment, taking a rest from the grueling looking for a new flat schedule to bake Mingi some cookies, curiosity being stronger than the fear of being publicly embarrassed in front of the demon community. 

Mingi's ear is now beautifully decorated with a dangling rainbow mottled stone earring. It swings back and forth with every movement he takes, Yunho's fingers tightly wrapped around the flour packet he is pulling from the cabinet. Mesmerized with the way the colors dash over Mingi's face.

"It's a shapeshifter's pendant. To help other demons to spot us," he explains, and Yunho tries his best to not put in a blank expression (it's not his very best as Mingi giggles, eyes turning into crescents, and goes further on with his explanation): "When we shift into animal forms, we lose everything. From clothes to rings to everything that could distinguish us from any other normal animal. This pendant is special, it will remain here the next time I turn into a cat and it will avoid being chased by a hungry pal again."

 _Again?_ Resonates loudly inside Yunho's brain. 

"It also helps when we are taking other human forms. No one wants to mess with a shifter on disguise," Mingi winks, sticking his tongue a little. "I thought you knew about this, you knew where to find it, after all."

Yunho avoids his gaze, perfectly conscious of the comical drop of sweat that must be running down his forehead right now. He just got unusually lucky today.

His fingers move raud, pulling the flour, sugar and baking powder out. He takes his time to neatly display them over the countertop before moving to the fridge. 

"It sounded like they could sell it," he saves once his face is protected by the coldness of the machine, suspiciously having a hard time finding the butter inside his half empty fridge. 

Mingi, unfortunately, gets way too curious—and closer, tilting his head as he approaches Yunho. Sitting on the countertop with a graceful jump, raising his brows up schemingly. 

"Could it be your first time seeing a shapeshifter?" There's no actual reason to lie with this, Yunho confidently nodding as he moves back to his spot, placing the butter with the rest of the ingredients. Mingi's eyes ablaze with determination. "Do you want to see it?"

"What?"

"Do you want to see me change?" 

Yunho scowls at how serious the boy sounds, taking a few steps back. 

"That's a weird thing to ask– _Oh God,_ " Yunho is blowing air from his nose in no time, horrified at how Mingi's body unnaturally twists and melts and gets all bumpy just to be shaped like clay again in a second in front of him. Soon, Yunho's own drained eyes and mussed hair are welcoming him, feet cutely swinging. His voice comes out strangled. "Turn back! _Oh God–_ Stop looking at me!"

Yunho takes both hands to his face, still spying through his fingers. The Yunho sitting in front of him is wearing Mingi's worn out red hoodie and clear baggy jeans, the same pendant dangling there. But the rest, the rest is all Yunho's. From his full cheeks, to his large nose and even the shape of his ears. And it's quite disturbing to be looking at himself so vividly, the mischievous smile curling Mingi's lips—that are Yunho's own heart shaped ones—adding a newly erotic aura he never thought he would be able to pull off—neither doing it fairly decent.

"What do you think?" Yunho Two says and he totally does it with Mingi's deep voice, sending displeasure shudders down Yunho's spine. "Amazing, right? No one could spot the difference."

Even when Yunho has to admit it looks exactly the same as looking into the mirror—but more detailed, he would say—there's something not matching there. Something that uncomfortably soaks his socks in cold water.

"That's not my voice," he says, closing his eyes as Mingi's thoughts make Yunho's expresion shift. Doe eyes getting wider, and glossier. It is too weird to keep looking.

"Well, we can only adopt the form of what we see. Do you mind if I take a look into your vocal cords?"

Yunho knows Mingi is joking—he hopes he is—, but he still shuffles further from him. Himself. Whatever. 

"Just turn back to normal, please!" Yunho blubbers. 

"Would you like a kitten better?" Mingi is asking, and way before Yunho can deny it—too many emotions for today—all his clothes are falling empty into the floor. In the middle of the nest of clothes a small orange furred kitten pops its head with a soft meow. 

This time, Yunho's heart swells a little, finding this new form quite adorable. Pendant still hanging from his tiny ear, informing that the tiny creature is indeed his gigantic friend. Kitten Mingi meows adorably and Yunho falls to his knees, fast forgetting the disturbing image of his own persona standing in front of him. He beams and coes as Kitten Mingi jumps into his arms, one finger moving to scratch the back of his ear.

For a second, everything feels cozy. 

"See? It's quite amazing."

Yunho is abruptly hissing, feeling a little guilty for the way he drops the kitten and moves back like a scared cat himself, hitting his lower back with the edge of the countertop. 

"Cats don't talk!"

"Why are you acting like this is the weirdest part? You know I'm not a real cat."

Yunho is running away from his cozy kitchen in no time, the image of the kitten actually moving his tiny lips with every word creeping him out in a totally unnamed way. Kitten Mingi follows him around, still talking—he is bursting in laughter, finding Yunho's pain funny. 

Just another thing to add to Yunho's one hell of a week.

﹢

Yunho's phone loudly buzzes in the silence of the night. If it wasn't because of how awake he lies in bed, eyes wide open and blinking just the necessary to not having to walk to class with a sore eye, he would be so pissed off at the short buzzing sound disturbing his inner meditation. 

He rolls in bed, standing in one elbow as he goes through a text from Yeosang. 

**Maria Kangrey:** yuyu are u up :P 

Letting out a sigh, Yunho replies as cheerful as he can after having to deal with another tiresome day, the image of Mingi shamelessly licking his asshole in his cat form not leaving his mind even after spending hours making friendship bracelets for each other and the best cookies he has baked in years filling his tummy. 

**Yunho:** yeosang is midnight and I'm trying to sleep

 **Yunho:** or set myself on fire

 **Yunho:** whatever ends my suffering first

Not as cheerful as he thought. The dangling dots appear in a second, Yeosang throwing another message real fast.

 **Maria Kangrey:** haha you are hilarious!!

 _Am I though?_ Yunho squints, sitting in bed knowing the conversation won't end any sooner. 

**Maria Kangrey:** there's a party here

 **Maria Kangrey:** seeing you are up why don't you tag along

 **Maria Kangrey:** I bet you have a good time ;)

 **Maria Kangrey:** and maybe forget about all the looking for a new place shit for a while 

Yunho gets startled at the obnoxious sound that leaves his own chest, shortly wondering if he has always been able to make sounds like that.

 **Yunho:** cut it off im going to sleep

 **Maria Kangrey:** cmoooooooooon 

**Maria Kangrey:** do u really think your avoiding techniques are working with me?

 **Maria Kangrey:** i saw you faceplanting in front of the lib yesterday 

Yunho bites his tongue, putting a lot of strength into it, whimpering a little when his teeth rip the flesh and the strong taste of blood is invading his cavity. In his defense, he faceplanted because Wooyoung was coming out of the library at the same time Yunho was coming in, fingers stupidly brushing and eyes meeting for a brief second before Yunho was running away. And tripping with an abandoned by the wayside half water bottle.

And it all was because of how blistering the image of Wooyoung's sharp eyes and plump lips remains untouched in his mind. All because of Yeosang. 

He types a reply back, acidily.

 **Yunho:** goodnight.

 **Maria Kangrey:** if you dont come I'll go to your house, and ill take woo with me

Yunho sucks in a breath—he totally _chokes_ on it—, phone falling into the cup of his legs. An unbidden and totally absurd fear twining around on his ribs. He regrets the day he took Yeosang into his apartment. Maybe he regrets approaching Yeosang in the first place because that led to meeting Wooyoung and now the idea of the boy finding out he lives in an outmoded, close to falling apart building of the slums makes his head pound as he jumps out of bed, searching for a nice pair of pants. 

Yeosang is soon calling him, and Yunho can't help the half annoyed half fretful bark that gurgles its way out of his oppressed chest. 

"I'm coming! Please, give me a break." 

Yeosang giggles at the other side of the line, annoying the deepest part of Yunho's core with how lovely he sounds. 

"Good, good. Don't be late, okay? I'll send you the location," Yeosang singsongs. 

Yunho clenches his jaw, grunting a final _okay_ before hanging off and pulling his drawer open, going over all his shirts, trying to find one that doesn't give off nerd vibes albeit half of them are anime imprinted. After pushing aside six _Sailor Moon_ shirts, he decides to go for a sweater instead. 

Shoving a black and red striped sweater down his head, he moves to the bathroom in a hurry. Hands against the sink, eyes hastily moving all over his reflection. His skin looks nice, a little bit red on the cheeks but still nice. His coral peach hair doesn't look as nice, unkempt for all the rolling in bed as he tried to catch some sleep. 

Opening the tap, he soaks his fingers in cold water before threading them in the coral mess, bluffy brushing it into a more decent look. He takes his wet hands to his face as well, giving his look a finishing touch and cooling down his feverish cheeks. There's nothing he can do about the dark circles under his eyes constantly reminding him all the lack of sleep he carries around, though—they're all sleep deprived college students in the end, and if luck decides to not trick him, everyone will be drunk enough to not notice it. 

Coming back into the room to put on his shoes, his eyes catch the velvety gloves he got in the afternoon from that sorcerer. Heart pounding and the skimming of—he hopes—imaginary claws against his inner walls, he moves to sheathe his hands in the gloves, that eerily fits his big hands just fine. Clenching and unchlenchig his fists in the air, Yunho hopes the sorcerer didn't swindle him because if there are any chances of his hands flaming up again, it will totally happen tonight. 

﹢

The location Yeosang sends Yunho leads him to one of the most bustling districts of Seoul. Wide streets made out of different colored rectangles of stone, rowdy clubs set together like pieces of domino, people standing outside because of how small the places actually are, thick damp air making it impossible to remain inside longer than the ten minutes it takes to get a drink.

There are lanterns hanging on top of his head, crossing the night sky from wall to wall, creating a beautiful scenario right on top of wasted college students. A vivid representation of heaven and hell colliding together. And Yunho happens to be right in the middle.

Yunho spots Yeosang after five minutes walking among shrieks of laughter and bouncing, sweaty bodies. He is glad he manages to make it without having a single alcohol stain on his clothes. 

Yeosang has his fingers already curled around a big glass reeking of strong liquor. Tonight, he is wearing the most skimpy outfit Yunho has ever seen on him; a long sleeved translucent shirt that leaves his nipples very exposed, both the neck and the sleeves cuffs curling delicately, and a black and red skirt flapping around his naked legs with every step he takes. He is also wearing large black boots, blonde hair falling in perfect waves, sparkling with glitter under all the lanterns. 

His lips are covered in red lipgloss, popping loudly once he is reaching Yunho's position, throwing his body all over him with a radiant smile. 

"You are here!" Yeosang chants, pulling Yunho down for a cheek rub. The boy also reeks of alcohol, making Yunho wonder how many drinks he had, being only one in the early morning. "I thought you wouldn't come. I was so ready to go fetch Woo and–"

Yunho stops listening, eyes swiftly moving around the uproar of people around them. Looking for Wooyoung, the fire shamelessly wrapping around his throat with a weirdly instinctive anticipation. His demon, moving in a daze, doesn't feel as happy with the thought of meeting Wooyoung. If Yunho could think coherently, he would totally believe it's the same irrational and pointless fear oozing from the core of his being talking. 

"He sure is goofing around, isn't he," Yeosang snorts in the background, pulling out his phone to send a note voice. "Yah, Wooyoung. You don't make me wait. If you are fucking right now I swear to God I will personally bite your dick. Friends before hoes, you called it."

Yunho isn't listening at all. His short hunting coming to an end without a prey, Wooyoung not being near the picture. But his eyes catch something on his way back to Yeosang's face. 

There's a boy standing in one corner next to one of the side streets, arms crossed over his chest and visibly detached from the party. Lonely looking down at his feet, covered in shadows. Dressed in all black, baggy pants and a vest filled with pockets on top of a long sleeved shirt. Covering his hair, a black cap, but even from there Yunho is able to see the strands of pink curling at the back of his head. There's nothing fishy about him, a soft voice echoes inside Yunho's head, aside from being totally left aside from the group of girls dancing not further than half meter from him. Almost like they haven't noticed him standing there yet. 

Then, unprompted, the boy is looking up and straight into Yunho's eyes, as if he just felt his gaze on him. Yunho's body stiffens alone, a pair of piercing eyes needling his skin in no time. The boy has a gorgeous face, is the first thing Yunho comes up with. Perfect eyebrows, relaxed and making his expression unfazed, an even more perfect nose, ending in full pink lips. Looking into his eyes feels like staring into the door of heaven, he thinks then. Sharp in shape, there's nothing malignant bathing past it. Totally the contrary of Wooyoung's eyes.

These eyes make him feel a little weird inside, unable to break the cast he was pulled into.

"Who is that?" Yunho wonders, still staring at him, observing how the boy tilts his head with a sudden interest glowing on his countenance.

Yeosang hums, interested as well in whoever caught Yunho's attention, eyes following the direction of his gaze.

"Which one? The girl in the yellow skirt?" 

Yunho shakes his head. "That one. The boy with the black cap."

Yeosang squints, resting one hand on Yunho's shoulder, tiptoeing a little. In front of him, the boy is grinning, changing his posture so Yunho can have a full vision of his body. 

"Where?" Yeosang insists.

Yunho frowns, finally being able to break eye contact to narrow at Yeosang. He places both hands onto Yeosang's tiny shoulders, guiding him until he is lined up with the boy, that is now visibly smiling. Having some fun, Yunho thinks. He doesn't care.

"That one."

Yeosang sighs after a second, looking back at Yunho with a pout curling his lips.

"I don't have a clue about who I'm supposed to be seeing. God," Yeosang forgets it easily, taking his free hand to his forehead, "am I that wasted already?"

Yunho can't help the rush of impotence that hits his body, looking up at the boy again. It's not difficult to see him, standing out like a yellow poppy in the middle of a red field. He is just right there, looking back at Yunho. 

Yunho narrows his eyes, and suddenly, something inside his body loudly clicks. His breath gets stuck in his ribs, soughing calmly in between them and not making it outside. For a moment, the world in front of his eyes moves slowly. The boy removes his arms, unveiling his chest, seals pocking from the pockets of his vest.

The air moves out in the shape of a hiss when the boy gently smiles at him. It also clicks inside Yunho's brain; the reason Yeosang's eyes couldn't capture his figure there.

 _He is an exorcist,_ is his demon talking, suddenly very awake and disturbed.

"I need to go," Yunho bellows, totally moved by an inner force. He actually feels bewitched by the boy's eyes, but his demon is not having any of that shit. 

"What?" Yeosang chugs, clinging a little onto his arm. "You can't go now. I already told Woo we'll be waiting here for him."

Inner Yunho is soon shaking Yeosang's hands off him, sparing the exorcist one last look before sprinting away. 

Humans can't see exorcists unless they decide to show themselves. The only ones that can see through their spell, are demons. Of course, the exorcist knew it the second Yunho laid his eyes on him.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Inner Yunho swears.

Once he is out of the spell those eyes casted on him, Yunho realizes what just happened. And he kind of agrees with his inner self, that's only trying to protect him, _he_ is the stupid one for not realizing the danger. 

Yunho needs to disappear before the man gets his scent and hunts him down, but he can't go and hide in his apartment right away, it will be too risky. He might end up chased down there and unwittingly betray all the demons living there.

Totally what he doesn't need right now; being hunted both by exorcists _and_ demons. That will be a very juicy invitation for hunters to tag along, and Yunho can't handle everything at once.

His body moves alone, squeezing his way between people inside a stifling club that divides in two floors. Yunho takes the stairs in a rush, throwing his body inside an empty room and looking down at his hands in the dark.

There's nothing.

When he takes off one of the gloves, he only finds shaky fingers, relieved the shock of meeting face to face with an exorcist for the first time in his life isn't hard enough to get his power out of control. Actually, his demon is currently curling in one corner of his body, shaking and whimpering like an abandoned puppy. It makes Yunho throw his head back with a tired laugh. 

His demon is terrified. He is just praying things don't turn more complicated than they already are.

"What now?" He asks in a whisper, totally waiting for a voice or a feeling rumbling back in his mind. He only gets the image of the exorcist again, this time, through the eyes of his demon. Yunho has to admit the boy looks a little bit dangerous now.

﹢

"Hyung, here you are!" Jongho's orotund voice echoes around the walls of the side street that opens at his back.

Blinking fast, San turns on his heels a little bit embarrassed to be caught in the middle of his personal game—teasing demons he has no intentions of going after is self care—, eyes catching the younger boy jogging towards him. He also catches the reprimanded expression splattering vibrant red over his full cheeks. 

"What do you think you are doing?" Jongho throws, standing in the middle of the street and flailing one hand in the air, nervously asking him to move apart from the normal humans dancing to the joy of life nothing but a few inches from him.

Jongho kind of sounds like their father right now. 

San momentarily closes his eyes, allowing the air bubbling outside of his lungs in a calm sigh. He takes both hands to the back of his head, turning his back to the party to give his best set of puppy eyes to his cute little brother. Slowly, he makes his way in until he is one step far from Jongho. 

Contrary to San, Jongho is still wearing the silky white camisole that matches the wavy pants, white cloth covering his forehead and falling in fairly strips down his waist as well. Every move he takes seems to pour magic around, almost like he is floating.

"Why are you wearing these?" San pouts, eyes widening when a certain thought makes its way through the stickiness that facing a strong demon leaves behind. "Do we have work?"

_Shit, dad will kill me._

Jongho sighs, closing his eyes. The boy takes a hand to his temple, brushing slowly. 

"I wore them in case I faced a demon in the way. I didn't want to get involved in a fight. You know how frequent the attacks are around here, much more now that…" Jongho purses his lips in a tight line, leaving his sentence unfinished. He is glaring at San the next second. "What are you doing here? Dressed like _this?_ And what's with the seals?" He gaps, eyes falling on the amount of seals San took with him when he left their hotel room earlier that night. "What are you scheming? You know we can't go after demons here, the hunters will finally have a free pass to kill you if you break the rules _again._ "

San chortles shortly.

"You worry way too much, _baby_ ," San gets closer, just to be pushed aside by a totally not in the biggest mood Jongho. San lets out a whimper, still pressing his lips in a thin smile, hands falling loose at each side of his body. "I'm not doing shit, I swear. No plans of chasing demons. The seals are just a warning. I just wanted to have a little fun, you know. It's been so long since the last time we were here. I can't stay in that room when there's a party right here."

Jongho squints at him, totally not believing his words albeit San is telling the truth. Half truth. Maybe twenty percent of it is true. Past his hidden intentions, he really wanted to stand in a party after so long.

Three years. It's been three years since they were allowed inside Seoul, and just because the president wanted to personally express his gratitude towards the Choi Family, so they didn't have a lot of free time to roam around the city. The city San loves so much, the same city he is not allowed to enjoy. 

Right now, San can't be sure of how long this mission will take. Could it be days, weeks, months or just hours. As soon as the _White Flamed Demon_ is sealed, they'll be back in Namhae. No city lights, no bustling, no that rush of excitement San feels sparkling on his fingertips every time he steps inside of Seoul. 

No Wooyoung. 

They know the White Flamed Demon is still alive, and they know if there's any chance of catching him, it will be during the big festival in his honour taking place exactly one month from now. It's been twenty years since he went missing, at least from Seoul, and what for the citizens is a party to celebrate being freed by the terror those eternal white flames caused in the past, for the Capitol is nothing but a plan to lurk a narcissistic demon into his own perdition. 

They want him alive, and that's why San is right there. Invading the home of the hunters, that are far from being acceptable with the president's orders. 

_No one can kill the White Flamed Demon. We must capture him alive. We won't doubt taking retaliation on whoever dares killing him._

San doesn't know the reason why. Even himself, an exorcist that _despises_ the brutal techniques of the hunters, thinks that beast should suffer for everything he did in the past. Asking his father the reason why would be meaningless, so he just hopes for _Wooyoung_ to never find the demon first. And for his stopover in the city to last long enough to save him in case he does it. 

There you go. _Hidden intentions_. 

San knows Wooyoung in full detail. The boy would not think at all, putting his own life at risk if that means he can retaliate first. There's no way San will allow that. 

"You should have told me." Jongho whines, finally relaxing his shoulders, still frowning when he talks, "we should go back. It's late and we have to wake up early in the morning. I told everyone you are already sleeping, but we will get in trouble if someone dares to check on us."

San ducks his head low, gnawing on the corner of his mouth. Jongho is right, and San knows he won't leave him alone, so the best he can do right now is give up and try to catch some sleep. When he spies over his shoulder, eyes falling on the party behind his back, he is not thinking about that coral peach haired demon anymore.

He is thinking about Wooyoung. _Another time, maybe._

He looks back, not catching the glimpse of panic crossing Jongho's eyes. 

Fast and pushing all the air in his lungs out, San's body is crashing against one of the walls of the street they are standing on. He didn't see it coming, one hand curled around his throat at the same time a warm body glues to his chest in less than a heartbeat. Another hand hitting the wall near his head, sound reverberating around but dying before someone can even notice what's happening. The air comes out of his chest in shaky waves, burning his throat in the way. The hard knock of his head against the irregular surface of the wall making every sound around him fade. 

For a second, San can only hear a constant, annoying bleep.

In front of him, a familiar pair of eyes glaring at him. Beneath all the bottled up rage, San is able to see the warm brown prairie bathed in the afterglow that Wooyoung's eyes are. It's so nice to see him again that he forgets about the sizzling pain around his throat and the way his back screams in agony, uncomfortably pressed against cold bumps. He beams like he just found the biggest treasure. 

"I knew something smelled fishy," Wooyoung groans, making San's stomach flutter.

His lips curve up in a wider smile in response, losing all the composure he was taught as a kid and just allowing his face to show how much he missed the boy that's literally choking him right now. Maybe Wooyoung didn't miss him as much. But San knows, for the way he is not gripping tighter around his skin, that Wooyoung doesn't hate him as much as he tries to demonstrate with his actions.

It's a relief.

"What are you saying? I took a shower before coming," San's voice comes out harsh, totally a consequence of the way all the air was forced out of his body. "Hoping to see you."

Wooyoung's fingers twitch. 

"Jung Wooyoung, let go," San catches Jongho's voice, and unwillingly leaving Wooyoung's eyes to observe what's happening around him, he also catches Jongho's defensive posture. Hands in the air, a few shining restraining seals enclosing his wrists. He is aiming for Wooyoung's back. "Don't make me put you down."

San goes back to Wooyoung, feeling warm all over his body for a second, being roughly tossed to one side the next one. Wooyoung's fingers let go of him, San stumbling away from him, one hand flying to his neck. His skin is still warm, pounding. He realizes the sudden push sent his cap flying away, too far off his reach he decides to ignore it, fingers desperately threading in his hair.

He turns to observe Wooyoung. Tight black jeans ripped on the knees, a plain white shirt and a leather jacket molding his broad shoulders. His black hair is pulled up in a bun, the traces of smashed makeup creating bewitching shadows around his eyes. There's metal on his lip, something new that makes San's heart skip a beat.

It's been three years.

Looking down, he finds no sword in sight.

San's lips curve again. _So he is just here to enjoy the party like any other college student. It must be nice. He looks nice._

"Put that down already, dude," Wooyoung groans, one hand pointing at Jongho. The latter doesn't move not even an inch, eyes only slightly moving towards San to ask for his agreement. 

San nods and Jongho is lowering his arms, not without putting his body in between the two of them, shielding him against any other sudden attack. With his heart pounding on his throat, San does his best to not push his brother aside and run towards Wooyoung's arms. Even when there's a high chance of being kicked on the stomach if he goes.

Wooyoung crosses his arms, adopting a defensive posture.

"What are you doing here?" He barks.

"It's none of your business. We were leaving already," Jongho says, but neither of them are listening. 

Wooyoung's eyes are glued to San's face. Asking him personally, not the exorcists. He doesn't care about the reason the Choi Family is in town—he must know it already—, he only cares about the reason why San is here. His eyes gleam under the faded light of the lanterns hanging on the main street.

"I wanted to check on you," San says, because when it comes to Wooyoung he deactivates all his brain-to-mouth filters.

Wooyoung's expression deforms a little in front of him, torn apart between feeling disgusted or deeply touched by that sudden confession. 

"I don't need you to check on me," he seems to head towards disgust, looking to one side. "If you're here to pull the same shit from three years ago, you better start running. This time I won't hesitate on punching you."

San's smile doesn't brush off his lips, but he feels how his body starts cooling down with the gelids words lashing out of Wooyoung's lips. His eyes turn darker, putting all the blame on himself. If only he had tried harder to save Wooyoung from his own darkness maybe they would be hand in hand by now. 

"We should get going," Jongho insists, tugging on San's arm.

San's feet anchor him down. His chest is on fire, may it be because he is finally noticing the splinters of pain digging in his back or because of all the things he wants to tell Wooyoung bottling at the feet of his throat. Either way, Wooyoung is stomping out of the street in haste before he can decide which one is, not even sparing a goodbye. 

"Hyung, let's go," Jongho pleads.

"Give me a minute," San says, freeing his arm from his hold and taking the opposite way. He starts running among the alleys when Jongho exasperatedly calls out his name. 

He has always been the fastest among the _three_ of them.

﹢

There are not enough words in the dictionary to describe the feelings twisting inside of Wooyoung's chest as he makes his way through the ocean of people already messed up inside of _Twilight_ Club. There's no name for them, actually, because all those feelings were born out of San and Wooyoung. Feelings only the two of them share, and just for that, no one has come up with a name for the emptiness facing San always leaves behind.

A bottomless pit where Wooyoung has been falling since the day he learned how to walk by his own and San's dimple smile became the first memory he has from this messed up world. 

There's also rage. A very deep and ugly rage that comes with the resentment he has against the exorcist. A resentment Wooyoung feels guilty of every single day of his existence, and maybe that's the reason facing San always leaves him in shambles.

"Seonghwa, meet me at _Twilight_ ," he groans into his phone, fast taking the way that leads to the rooms. 

He is not sure where does the hustle come from, the crowded club he is standing in or wherever Seonghwa is standing, soon whining against the mic of his phone.

"Fuck off, I'm comforting Yeosang because you abandoned him," Wooyoung fuzzily remembers having more than thirty unread messages from Yeosang. "He wants me to do body shots with him."

"I give you ten minutes," Wooyoung groans back, ignoring all his friend's complaints and standing in front of one empty room. "Room five."

"Dude, everyone in town wants to suck your dick. I know I'm gifted with my mouth, but right now it's not the time. Yeosang is–"

"If you're not here in five minutes, I will make sure you never get close to Yeosang's dick," Wooyoung grits, yanking the door open and fusing with the darkness. 

At the other side of the line, Seonghwa lets out a guttural sound, agreeing and hanging off. Wooyoung is certain he will be pissed off, but he doesn't care about it now. Roughly, he slides his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, turning on the lights just to find there's already a person there.

They both fidget, Wooyoung's hand already turning the knob to get out when he notices who the person is. 

Yunho. 

Half sitting on the floor, one gloved hand flat against the old—incredibly ulgy—gray carpet that covers the floor of every room. His eyes are wide open, lips so tight they're turning a little white in the middle. Wooyoung relaxes, hand letting go of the knob.

Yunho is actually a weird individual. 

Wooyoung is not the type of person that pays attention to the ones around him, brain working faster than the world moves. He doesn't have time for clumsy sleep deprived PhD students. Even if they are cute.

He noticed how cute Yunho was the same night Yeosang introduced them, but it never really went further than that. Yunho being a cute, ridiculously tall boy. Wooyoung is so used to cute boys going in and out of his bed to be making a fuss about it. 

Tonight, though, Yunho resembles the memory of the night they met Wooyoung has saved somewhere deep in his mind. Glowing differently under the dim lights of the room, making the blush of his cheeks look kinda exquisite. 

It's weird for Wooyoung to find someone exquisite.

"I'm sorry," Yunho blurts, standing to his feet. Wooyoung is conscious of the way his legs tremble, knees crashing against each other. 

Ears turning red, a flash of their last encounter comes in soft waves. _'You should totally try it, Yunho. You should try Wooyoung's hole,'_ said Yeosang and Wooyoung's stomach painfully curls around that thought. 

_Oh._

"It's okay," Wooyoung finally brings himself to speak, pushing away all the acid on his tongue to pour some sugar over the poor scary cat trembling a few steps apart from him. "What are you doing here? Waiting for someone?"

Yunho shakes his head into haste. "I was just resting."

"Is that so?" Wooyoung's lips move upwards, shrugging the next second. One of his hands moves up, slowly putting on the latch. He catches how Yunho's body stiffens at the gesture, finding that reaction rather funny. "You need to put on the latch when you are here, though. You're lucky I was the one coming in and not some wasted couple that wouldn't have noticed you here before taking their pants off."

Yunho looks at him attentively, not thinking the same. Wooyoung makes his way to the bed, the mattress loudly cracking under his weight. He takes a hand to his annoyingly unasked boner, fingers brushing against the fabric of his tight jeans. For some reason that does nothing more but fuel his anger, he is still able to feel San's pulse pounding against his fingertips. 

San's heart was racing. 

Wooyoung regrets acting by impulse everytime it comes to San, not thinking at all before wrapping a hand around his neck when he catched that distinctive and unmistakable scent coming from the alley. San still smells like _home._

"Yunho," Wooyoung calls out, catching the boy planted on the same spot, big eyes fixated on his face. The boy bends both his arms behind his back, moving a few steps back until he is crashing against one of the beige walls. "Do you want to prove Yeosang's words?"

One of Yunho's brows twitch, lips filling with color as he frees them from his hold. Wooyoung's body warms up as fast as the blood turns Yunho's lips redder. 

"What?" Yunho mumbles. 

"Do you want to try my hole?" Wooyoung breathes, so used to saying it he doesn't even stutter, teeth innocently playing with the metal ball of his lip ring. When Yunho freezes, blush going down to his neck, Wooyoung adds: "Having sex with me. Do you wanna try it? Yeosang didn't lie about it, you know. I'm kinda good."

 _And I need to stop thinking about that jerk,_ he saves for himself, because Yunho looks actually like a nice kid, a weird one, but still nice. Wooyoung is known for using boys like napkins, he bets Yunho also knows he doesn't go further the raw pleasure of messy and rough sex. But there's an actual clear line between having sex without commitment and admitting the only thing he can think of right now is the way his hands molded around San's neck and how the glim in his eyes lighted a spark inside of him that now has turned into a conflagration. 

As calm as Wooyoung sounds, Yunho looks like a mess. He flushes so hard Wooyoung can feel the air around them becoming hotter with every second. There's also a certain smell dampening the air, something Wooyoung recalls but not exactly from where. It just makes the atmosphere sweltering enough to giddy him up.

"I'm–I'm so–I'm sorry," Yunho is reeling his way to the door.

Wooyoung shifts in the bed, body lining up with Yunho's. He realizes how the boy takes his hands to his chest, pressing them together there for a second, almost like he is trying to steady his heart—it makes Wooyoung kinda proud, but that's nothing new—, then he is restlessly trying to remove the latch. It slides through his gloved fingers, Wooyoung noticing how they're made out of velvet.

He stands up, closing the gap between them in two steps. One hand flat against the door, he cages Yunho there. The boy is two heads taller, obviously broader, but right now Wooyoung feels bigger. Or maybe it's the way Yunho's body shrinks, eyes closed and fisted hands primly pressed against his chest. 

Wooyoung notices the shaking, taking a deep breath of the parched air. From that close, Yunho's smell gets stronger. A little bit musky and fresh, it's like stepping into a forest after years breathing the smoky city air. Wooyoung closes his eyes, leaning close to his chest, to his hands. The pungent smell of sulfur hits him like whiplash then, curling around his throat in no time, making him shut his eyes wide open, hand covering his nose. It reminds him of the smell of human flesh burning down.

There's a thud on the door before Wooyoung can wonder where that smell is coming from, Yunho's body jumping forward and crashing against Wooyoung. Their legs tangling together, one of Wooyoung's arms unconsciously wrapping around Yunho's waist as they fall, Seonghwa's voice sounding muffled at the other side of the door.

"Wooyoung, why the fuck did you put on the latch? Are you really trying to get on my nerves?"

Wooyoung is not listening, a low whimper leaving his mouth as his head hits the floor—not hard as the carpet dampens it. One arm still around Yunho, bodies glued to the point Wooyoung is able to feel Yunho's pulse on his own stomach. It doesn't help at all with the fire going on inside of his body. 

Yunho stands up first—unintentionally rubbing one of his thighs against Wooyoung's crotch, having to bite his tongue to not let out a shameless moan—, hands pressed at each side of Wooyoung's head, taking a slight chance to look down at him. Around Wooyoung, it reeks, but every scent surrounding them has fused in something acrid he doesn't bother on identifying anymore. His head is pounding as he stares into Yunho's dark eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Yunho rushes his words, jumping back.

"Wooyoung!" Seonghwa thuds on the door again, getting impatient. 

Yunho's hands seem to work fine this time when he pulls hard from the latch, ripping it off the door. The tiny metal piece doesn't make a sound when it lands by Wooyoung's feet. He decides to think the door is old instead of lurking around where Yunho pulled that strength from.

The boy almost crashes into Seonghwa on his way out. The older boy is already scowling down at Wooyoung, one finger pointing the open door at his back.

"Did you really force me to ditch Kang Yeosang and all the tequila his navel can hold for this?" 

Wooyoung remains on the floor, chest agitated and pulse racing, for a few seconds. Watching the place where Yunho disappeared. Shaking his head, he decides he is not up for more overthinking for the night. He got enough with catching San's unfading scent and Seonghwa looks way too mad to act pliant and help him get off all night long, so he doesn't need to lurk around Yunho's scent. 

Even when it burned him down in a familiar way he can't quite match because the scent was gone before he could even give it a name. 

He clicks his tongue, storming to the door and slamming it close. There's a hole ripped on the wood where the latch used to be. He won't think about what the hell just happened either.

"Why aren't you saying shit?" Seonghwa sighs, tone turning a little softer, but not as much as his usual tone, still mad he couldn't drink out of Yeosang's navel. "I even had the decency to bring some condoms because you sounded annoyingly desperate."

Seonghwa drops two condoms into the mattress along with four crumbled packs of lube. Wooyoung takes his hand fast to his jeans: his friend is right, he is desperate. He was already desperate when he first stepped into the room, right now something inside of him is scratching his body walls, begging for release. 

Still in silence, he pulls his pants and underwear down, wrinkling them on his ankles as he doesn't bother taking off the shoes. He lets his body plop into the mattress, resting on his forearms and knees, sticking up his ass in the air.

"Hurry up," he gasps, ridiculously short of breath. 

Seonghwa half snorts half groans, one hand moving fast, smacking one of Wooyoung's cheeks. Wooyoung closes his eyes, tightening his jaw as the pleasure moves in waves all over his body, Seonghwa's fingerprints pulsating with his frantic heartbeats.

"I don't have time for games," Wooyoung grunts, glaring over his shoulder. "Hurry. Up."

"You're not fun when you're mad," Seonghwa sighs, knees brushing the carpet, thumbs softly digging in Wooyoung's skin. "Did that pretty boy reject you?"

Wooyoung glares again, catching the derision pooling Seonghwa's eyes. 

"I can't believe someone rejected you," Seonghwa says, but this time he sounds rather surprised. His breath tickles Wooyoung's skin when he speaks. "I'm gonna eat you out. You owe me because Yeosang was wearing a skirt. A skirt, Wooyoung," he rebukes, wet tongue already circling over his rim.

Wooyoung squeezes his eyes shut, gasping out with the so awaited contact, semi-hard dick starting to grow bigger as Seonghwa deepens in him.

As much as Wooyoung is enjoying the sound revolting around, the wet tongue quenching the fire bathing his stomach and the harsh grip around his cheeks, spreading him apart and starting a new, different fire, he can't concentrate. 

San's smile sketches at the back of his mind, and with it his small, filled with stars eyes curling until they're nothing but crescents. Fingers intertwined together, shyly beaming in the crack of the dawn, as the sun rose and their hearts fused into one.

It's been ten years since then.

How badly Wooyoung wishes he could be fifteen again, melt in the warmth of his old, calm life, and being able to look into San's eyes without dying inside.

﹢

Yunho is starting to think he did a ton of shit in his past life and karma is just getting to him now.

Out of all people, it had to be Wooyoung. It had to be Wooyoung and his perfect pouty lips and his long hair pulled up in a bun. It has to be him and his piercing eyes, sweet voice and honey soaked words making every single cell of his body flame up.

As he aimlessly makes his way out of the district, the image of Wooyoung sitting in bed, lip ring fairly catched between his teeth as he casually proposed to have sex together, does nothing but drive him crazier. Hands on fire. He totally knows it.

He can feel the fire viciously licking his hands under the velvety fabric at this exact moment. 

At least the gloves are working just fine. Might be the only good thing of it, even when he feels his skin peeling off for real this time. Scared to arrive home and find blood coming out from some first degree burns he won't be able to explain the emergency physicians. 

He totally forgets about the exorcist, thinking of the fastest way of arriving home and releasing everything sizzling inside. Feet moving fast, so fast he is unable to hit some imaginary brakes when a figure gets in his way. 

They end up crashing. 

_Totally uncalled for_ , Yunho grunts internally, pressing both hands against the cold surface of the ground to stand up. A single drop of blood meets him there. 

"Are you okay?" The voice is low, coming from the reckless boy jumping from one of the alleys.

Yunho stands up, brushing his chin with one glove—it burns a little, blood painting his fair skin red in the way. Turning around, he can't help the way his face deforms in a tired grin.

The exorcist is standing there. Right in front of him. 

The cap is gone now, a tangle of soft pink hair curling over his forehead. From up close, Yunho has to admit he looks even more ravishing. Fair features, almost heavenly. A reassuring smile slightly curving his lips. Kind eyes.

He is totally beaming in good, not a reason for Yunho's demon to screech as loudly as he is doing it right now. He tries to show Yunho the danger, but it goes unnoticed. 

Yunho is tired, and embarrassed. And honestly, he doesn't care about the exorcist. He is only thinking about Wooyoung. If he wants to seal him and ship him to Namhae, he might just take his chance because Yunho is exhausted of this ceaseless lifestyle. 

"Hello?" The exorcist tilts his head, ever so lightly. "You are bleeding. Does it hurt?"

The small scratch on his chin is slowly bleeding out again. Yunho shakes his head. He scuffs his shoes against the ground, moving backwards. 

_Get out. Now!_ Inner Yunho becomes a little testy. 

"I'm fine," Yunho blows, air scratching its way out. He is noticing just now how sore his throat is.

"Wait, let me take a look," the exorcist moves gently, without making a sound. It amazes Yunho the way he moves so gracefully wearing those big shoes. The exorcist moves one hand up, thumb brushing the wound.

 _Fucking shit._

For a brief moment, Yunho feels invaded. For the first time in his life, being the one pushed aside and weirdly observing how the world fades away. Edges of his vision turning black as he sinks in cold water. His demon taking over his body.

_No, no, no. Not in front of a fucking exorcist._

Yunho snaps back fast, the seal doing something useful for the first time ever, lending him the strength to pull from his demon, caging him. The exorcist is now looking at him with wide eyes, concern dashing there. Yunho notices how his fingers are curled around his wrist. Skin against skin.

It burns. 

Yunho jerks his arm back, the exorcist's nails scratching his skin and hooking on the thin strand of the rainbow colored beaded bracelet Mingi made for him. The sound of the pieces crashing against the ground buzzes loudly on Yunho's ears.

"Wait," the exorcist speaks softly, moving one step closer, trying to get a grip of Yunho's sweater this time.

His fingers blunderingly close around empty air. Yunho is already running fast, internally cursing.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He faces his demon. 

Inner Yunho looks like a mess. "He is scary."

Yunho clicks his tongue, looking back a few times before confirming the exorcist isn't following him. Turning in front of him isn't precisely what he would call a good getting away from murder technique. 

The cold breeze glues to his skin as he runs, Wooyoung's memory finally fading out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry yunho I promise good things for you soon! 
> 
> also woosan's past will unveil slowly, please bear with me T^T


	3. friends and enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho is unable to do anything else aside from nodding like a fool. Although Wooyoung still carries with him a mysterious aura that makes his demon screech in apprehension and makes Yunho's stomach whine under the scorching heat at the same time, he doesn't feel like saying no to him. 
> 
> Because Wooyoung is soon sticking his tongue out, almost like he caught the one hundred glances Yunho shot to his lip ring, proudly showcasing another shiny ball of metal. In the middle of his tongue. 
> 
> Yunho can't say no to that. Interjection, his dick can't say not to that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled 10K words of I've read this so many times I don't know anymore it it's boring or just me  
> thumbs up to chase atlantic to set me up in the mood for the party scene
> 
> I'll come back to fix any errors <3

* * *

The rough white cloth around San's shoulders sinks him further down as he catches the look on his father's face from across the room. It bites his skin in annoyance, having his disapproval gaze all over him when he is not able to sit straight for longer than two excruciating seconds, shoulders hunched both because of the heavy cloak and the lack of sleep that glues to his skin like a wet, cold towel. The list of things that makes his father drip so much disgust from his eyes is long enough to swaddle his entire body, but San knows his lousy posture is the main character of the morning. 

San squeezes his eyes shut for a second, hundred of white sparkles sizzling on the black canvas of the inside of his eyelids. They turn black when he opens his eyes, tiny dots flickering in the air of the wide, clean room they are calmly sharing conversations and lukewarm tea. San looks to his side, ignoring the damp feeling adhered to his chest. He catches Jognho's perfect posture, arms bended in the right angle, lips delicately meeting the edge of the porcelain cup, drinking without making a sound, almost like he has turned into a sculpture. Totally what makes their father beam with overjoy.

Coming back to his own cup of green tea—white flower petals floating on the green lagoon, matching the pureness of San silky outfit but striking with his own corrupted soul—he tries his best to imitate Jongho. His arms shake and his posture breaks and the tea slides down the side of his mouth like rivulets detaching from a main river, uncomfortably kissing the skin of his neck and fast flowing down his camisole. 

It's useless. He is too tired and sleep deprived to pretend being the perfect head of the family his father expects him to be. 

The reception lasts another wrenching hour, the sun advancing through high buildings and dazzling over metal and glass. Contrasting with the sunrises he is used to waking up to back in Namhae, just mountains and the wide azure filling with warmth. Sunrises in the city send more magical vibes, or maybe it's just San's soul vibrating with the way the sunlight outlines the buildings, a beam of light upon the darkness hiding between dark alleys and secret demon nests. 

San's body whines in pain when they're allowed to stand up, muscles of his legs becoming jelly, barely feeling his own cramped feet against the cold tiles. He is soon losing the balance, ridiculously tumbling down. One knee pressed against the ceramic floor, he tugs from the heavy cloak and yanks it off without care, rolling his eyes as the servants fast move to scoop it before it lands at his back. It's ridiculous to be always dressed in such heavy clothes when no one can see them. 

Ignoring the already known look of disgust on his father's face, San stands up, using one of the servants' hands to walk away from the room in nothing but silky fluttering clothes and bare feet. 

Reaching his own room, San plops down in bed without taking the clothes off, fast drifting into his awaited sleep. The sun is dancing on his face when he wakes up from what it looked like a five minute long nap.

Jongho is staring at him from the feet of the bed, arms crossed and the already carved in the space between his eyebrows frown welcoming him. 

"What?" San narrows, closing his eyes again and pulling his knees up his chest, trying to preserve the warmth. His chest still feels a little bit congested, heavy breathing barely raising it. "Don't watch me sleep. It makes you look like a creep."

"You shouldn't sleep in these clothes. Look at how creased your shirt is," Jongho berates. 

San doesn't bother opening his eyes to check the lines already furrowing the fabric of his shirt like the body lines of an antique statue carved in marble, creasing it harder under a fist just to piss the boy off. Jongho is soon whining.

"Stop doing that! Father will–"

San hisses, raising a hand to silence him. He doesn't open his eyes, but he allows his body to fully occupy the entire bed, arms stretched above his head and toes curling alone. He wishes he could sleep a little more.

"I already disappointed him twice this week. A wrinkled shirt won't change a thing."

San sighs, finally opening his eyes to face the clean white ceiling of the fancy room. He is just so exhausted from following the same humdrum lifestyle. Every single day, for over twenty-five years. Since the very first day he was born and abandoned by his biological parents, left alone for the demons to kill him. The Choi Family saved him, they gave him a second chance, and he is grateful. He really is. But he didn't choose it. 

He didn't choose to come into this world, neither become an exorcist. 

It's so hard to walk around trying to be someone he wasn't meant to be to begin with. Attending thousands of tedious receptions, learning manners and the perfect etiquette, detaching from all the joy and freedom to sit down in front of piles of paperwork he still tries to understand, not only carrying around expensive clothes he can't even feel comfortable in, but also a flesh that will never feel like his own. 

San is tired of never being good enough because of that. Not for his father, neither for Wooyoung. 

He takes one hand to his neck with the sudden memory of Wooyoung's smashed makeup bathing his brain in tepid water. The fingers roam slowly over the skin, vividly remembering how Wooyoung's fingers pressed against it. Not hard enough to leave them imprinted there, neither soft enough for the memory to vanish after the night. The perfect pressure to make his heart sink deeper within his chest. The only reason he made it through childhood has Wooyoung's name. Because he was there smiling and holding his hand and kissing his knuckles after every reprimand. 

It's been so long since the last time Wooyoung ever held his hand. 

San abruptly closes his own hand around his neck, inhaling and exhaling sharply, fingers applying so much pressure he still feels their ghost there when he lets his hand fall with a thud into the mattress. 

"He is not disappointed," Jongho's voice is flowing around, pulling him from the now boiling water like a lifeguard. "He is not fond of you dyeing your hair without telling him first. That's all."

San sits down, exhausted, feet meeting the cold floor. This time, he meets parquetry under his wiggling toes. 

"Last time I checked I am twenty-four and I can decide for myself."

"Yeah, but…"

San knows what Jongho means. Pink is not precisely an appropriate hair color for an exorcist. Or, at least, not for an exorcist carrying the name of the strongest family of exorcists in the country. As his father uses to preach: _A high rank exorcist like you should not walk around like a mindless hunter. You should honor the Choi name, not make fun of it._

That's exactly why San did it. He is so tired of being Choi San, the high rank exorcist, the next head of the Choi Family. 

For once, he just wants to be San. Nothing more but human San. _Free_ San. 

Everyone has been giving him disapproval looks for the past week, just like they did when he turned eighteen and showed up with a tattoo on his neck. But no one dares to say a word.

Choi San is the future of the Choi Family, and with it, of the whole country as well. 

San… San just wants to hold Wooyoung's hand. 

Jongho sighs, and so does San, a little whimper leaving his lips when he finally stands up and walks towards the wardrobe. His body is still stiff because of the sleepless night the short nap couldn't repair. The eyes of that demon reaching so far within his soul San found himself unconsciously sitting in bed wide awake until six in the morning hit the clock, when the reception started. 

It wasn't fear that held him awake, it was intrigue. Sparkling on his skin and sending shudders down his spine with the only memory of black eyes and coral peach hair. 

A hybrid. It's the first time San encounters a half demon carrying such strong power. Strong enough to be almost tangible.

But that wasn't the source of his intrigue. It came around with the strong seal glued to the core of his being. Not as strong to contain the totality of the power, but enough for the boy to fight the demon at will. Right in front of his eyes. San saw it; the way the boy's eyes turned coalblack and his lips curled up to show two sharp growing fangs, just for him to go back to normal in a heartbeat. 

So fast he would've missed it if it wasn't for the fact they were one inch apart from each other.

His whole body filled with excitement, hours wondering why an exorcist would selflessly help out a demon to hide his powers. What kind of demon needed to be hidden from the world. What kind of power. If everything he has grown up learning about demons is truly real or just a lie created to give the exorcists meaning. 

San can't shake it off his head. 

Pulling from the collar of the silky camisole, he tugs it off with a quick movement, carelessly tossing it to one side, ignoring how Jongho groans again, already moving to pick it up. San entertains himself humming a song while searching for a hoodie. He comes up with a gray one, engulfing himself in it in no time. 

He repeats the gesture with the pants, sheathing in the same ones he wore last night. The tiny rainbow beads he carefully took with him last night crashing against each other inside one of the pockets. Slightly carrying that demon's scent with them. 

"Where are you going now?" Jongho bemoans, containing himself to not clamp his fingers around the shirt. 

"Last night I came across a bookstore," San starts, beaming. "They had some books about astrology displayed. I was thinking about enjoying our free time with a good reading."

Truth be told, San only wants to roam around the city to see if he can catch the demon's scent again. But he is not telling his brother that. Jongho is a very well known devoted exorcist. He hates breaking rules as much as San loves crushing them under his feet.

Instead, he delights himself with the way Jongho's expression changes at the sound of that, shoulders relaxing, doe eyes and pouty lips making him look like the kid that used to climb onto San's lap and ask for stories about the moon and the stars. 

"Is that so?"

San nods.

"Why don't you dress up like a normal person for once and tag along? It's just a bookstore, it can't hurt anyone, right?" 

Jongho doubts for a few seconds, carefully folding San's clothes in the end. He takes his own clothes off with delicacy, borrowing one of San's hoodies because the only clothes he brought are not suitable for the human eye—it's sad to admit he doesn't own any, never leaving their father's side. Never enjoying life. But he does with a sweet smile, making San forget about it and feel energised again.

﹢

Yunho's eyelids flutter exhaustively as he tries hard to remain awake after not catching any sleep at night. 

Arriving home with jelly for legs, he felt at the edge of collapse. Real collapse, both because of the early morning marathon and all the things a single and supposedly calm college party decided to throw at him. It's true college parties are never calm, more less if Kang Yeosang is evolved in it, but this is the first time Yunho felt at the verge of tears for real. 

Taking a cold shower and covering his hands in the sticky glittery hand cream he got from the sorcerer, he hoped the weariness would wave him to sleep in no time. No worries at all. Keep up with his stupidly unlucky life like any other night, maybe even embrace it to stop getting startled every time things start going downhill. 

Unfortunately, his demon didn't have any intentions of going to sleep soon.

His mere presence becoming stronger than ever, intrusive, Yunho feeling uncomfortably in his own skin. The demon was always there, since he was born. But Yunho never thought of it as nothing but the voice inside his head, the one making him company when his parents started another two in the morning fight, the one he always shared a cup of tea with in the calmness of his own mind after a long day. 

It was just harmless Inner Yunho. A voice. Not a strong presence. 

The sudden awakening of his demon just makes things more complicated. First, because Yunho was almost possessed by him, meaning he is strong enough to take over his body if the seal fully breaks. Second, because he got obsessed with the pink haired exorcist to the point Yunho can't brush his gaze off his mind. 

Throwing the same image over and over again, from different angles, not allowing him to fall asleep. The exorcist's face. Staring right into Yunho's eyes. His demon is sure the exorcists are coming for him. Yunho hopes he is just being paranoid. 

Just when his demon's energy started to fade and Yunho found some quietness inside his mind, ready to sleep for hours and recharge his body to face another tiring day, his phone rang. 

Yeosang.

Yunho felt so bad for abandoning him to ignore the call, picking up to listen to a long—twenty minute long—scolding from his friend. _How dare you leave me alone like that_ and _I hope you went and sank your dick somewhere that's the only excuse I'm accepting_ and _On top of everything I went home alone because fucking Wooyoung snatched Hwa from me again._

After all that—and the sudden mortification of remembering what happened in that tiny, dusty and ridiculously hot room with Wooyoung—Yeosang saved his life. Offering him a job. 

"My brother moved out of town and I'm not wasting my free time between nerds," Yeosang said after explaining his father was in search of another employee to take care of his business: the tiny bookstore near campus Yunho loves to buy his highlighters from. "You can rearrange your labs, right? It's a morning shift."

Yunho accepted without having a clue if his tutor would do him the favor. He desperately needs the job to find a new flat—and after emailing him, Yunho got a very chill reply saying he can go in the afternoons without a problem. Strangely lucky for him, but he didn't give it enough importance at that time. 

The only problem was the havoc the sleeplessness night left behind on his face. Pale, dark circles sinking deep in his skin, chapped lips and a very ugly scab decorating his chin. Yunho cried a little before pulling out the long forgotten makeup he got from Yeosang but never actually used. 

"Is this expired?" He asked, staring into his own eyes in the mirror, stupidly waiting for his demon to answer. He only got silence. "Anyway. This won't kill me. I hope." 

The makeup ended up covering everything but the scab quite well. Another positive point for Yeosang. 

Mister Kang is already familiar with Yunho and so is Yunho with the tiny, wood scented bookstore. After exchanging a few words— _thank you for taking the job_ , Mister Kang said, _thank you so much for the job_ , said Yunho—Yunho took a seat behind the counter, ready for the day. 

The morning went by dull. Not a single person coming in, Yunho's head nearly banging against the surface of the table four consecutive times because the lack of work is not good friends with the lack of sleep. 

One in the afternoon hits the clock with the first sound of the bell reaching his ears. Yunho blinks repeatedly, stretching his arms in the air and facing the two boys that just got inside.

Inner Yunho hisses loudly, suddenly waking up when Yunho less needs him. 

The same exorcist from last night is coming in, totally ignoring his presence behind the counter. Yunho does the most to push his demon behind four locked doors, putting a zipper on his mouth. Hoping his presence goes unnoticed and this ends without any incidents. His shift ends in one hour. Maybe he gets to leave before they buy something. 

The exorcist looks different today. His pink hair is tousled, glued to his scalp at the back of his head, almost like he just woke up and forgot to brush it. His hoodie hangs big from his shoulders, making him look smaller than he already is. He also carries the same sleepy eyes Yunho struggles to keep open. Holding his hand, there's a young boy—surely another exorcist—that's also engulfed in a big hoodie. Black hair and sparkly eyes, not sparing Yunho a look before he is pulling from the pink haired exorcist between the narrow but neat shelves of books.

Yunho moves back in the chair, realizing he has been keeping the air inside his lungs. It burns on his nose, gloved fingers rapidly moving to the scab the concrete left on his chin. The burning sensation feels the same as the exorcist's fingers brushing his skin; a little bit like getting short of breath. 

His demon fidgets, but nothing pictures inside of Yunho's mind. Perfect. He is in charge. He is totally capable of doing it. He just needs to wait for an hour in silence. 

For the first fifteen minutes, the couple of exorcists remain calm. Soft voices making their way from one of the aisles, chatting happily about astrology. Yunho doesn't put much attention as their conversation is soon drifting towards a very mundane topic, not awakening any danger inside himself. Neither curiosity. 

One hand holding his head steady, elbow piercing the surface of the counter, he allows himself to close his eyes one more time, hoping time moves faster. When he opens them, a pair of shiny eyes are scrutinizing his face. 

Yunho moves ridiculously slowly, raising his arms in a defensive posture out of habit. The exorcist moves back, shooting him a radiant smile. Yunho wasn't in the right state to notice it last night, but the boy standing—again—in front of him totally looks like the image everyone spreads around about exorcists: carrying an eerily fragility within himself, everything soft, from the voice to the gaze to the hair to the dimple digging a way through his round cheeks. Heavenly, not room in his tiny body to harbour darkness. 

Yunho's still trying to guess why he would need to be scared of a guy that looks like an angel. His demon growls low. 

"Can I help you?" Yunho breathes. 

Calm. Not quite sure the reason the exorcist allowed him to leave last night totally knowing his nature, but certain that if he didn't try to seal him in the middle of the night, when no one could see them, he won't try it in such a small and cozy bookstore. 

"Is your chin okay?" The exorcist asks instead, voice dripping like honey. 

Yunho takes a hand to the scab again, nodding in silence. The exorcist beams, taking a hand to his neck. The movement allows Yunho to see the tattoo he has there, totally unmatching his soft presence. _San._

"Sorry for that," he says, coyly. "I never look around when I jog. It's a problem of mine."

Yunho hardly believes he was jogging, way too focused on his own thoughts to even notice Yunho before their bodies were crashing. But he doesn't expose him, taking wary steps. Despite thinking he wouldn't mind being sealed, that was just a thought dripping from his exhausted mind. Right now he has no intentions of spending the rest of his life hanging upside down somewhere in Namhae, so he for the best shouldn't get on the exorcist's nerves.

"I'm so happy to find you here," the exorcist is soon admitting, smiling so bright Yunho can't help the way his pulse skyrockets. "I wanted to give you this."

Yunho's too busy trying to spot something dangerous on his face to notice the way he gets a hand into the pocket of his pants, tiny rainbow beads crashing against the counter the next second. 

Looking down, Yunho finds Mingi's friendship bracelet—or what's left of it—tangled around one of the exorcist's fingers. His chest deflates, sinking deeper in the chair. 

"I tried to pick all of them, but I'm sure I missed some," the boy explains, referring to the beads. "I'm sorry I broke this, too. Did your little sibling make it?"

Yunho chokes with laughter, rasping his throat. 

"Actually, my friend did," he explains, catching the way the exorcist's cheeks dust in the same shade his hair shines. Adorable. "Thank you for bothering. You didn't have to."

The boy ducks his head low, hands on the caves of his hoodie. His shoes scuff the floor, lips pouting a little. Something inside Yunho tingles.

 _'He is adorable',_ he thinks.

 _'He is faking it',_ his demon cries, taking the chance and fighting Yunho's restraints back as he gets mesmerized by that pink cloud standing in front of him. _'Your stupid brain can't see it, but I can. He is totally faking it to gain your trust'._

Yunho is silencing him, heedlessly smiling.

"I felt bad. You looked terrified," the exorcist is mumbling, eyes glossy when he looks up, tiny—the tiniest—hands curled in fists against his chest. "I'm sorry if I did something to scare you. It was my first night in the city and you looked _gorgeous_ under all the lights. Usually, I don't stare at people but you are so pretty that I… I'm sorry if I gave off the wrong impression."

Yunho freezes. He totally saw the restraining seals he was carrying, the sames he willingly showed him. He totally knows the exorcist was not, in any way, checking him out. And they both know about each other's true identities. 

Or at least, Yunho knew. Because one look into the boy's eyes is enough for everything to drip off his head from his ears. And soon the only thing Yunho knows is that the exorcist is pretty cute and totally flirting with him.

 _'I can't fucking believe you fell for such a stupid cast',_ his demon says, enervated, but it drips out as fast as the rest. 

"I'm–I wasn't–I wasn't scared," Yunho stutters, standing up and realizing the sweet mistake. He is two heads taller than the exorcist, that now looks even tinier. "Yesterday was hectic. But I wasn't scared. So, don't worry, okay?"

"Sure?" The exorcist shamelessly bats his lashes and Yunho totally falls for it.

"Sure," he nods hastily.

The exorcist smiles so hard his dimples are popping out and his eyes are curving in beautiful crescents. He is as pure as a ray of sunshine. Yunho feels the desire of wrapping his tiny, fragile body around his arms and protecting him from the cruel city. 

"That's a relief. I'm San," he tends his hand, Yunho moving awkwardly to squeeze it between his own. Is ridiculously tiny. Yunho's heart does a backflip and then dies in a pit of honey. The same honey swaddling San's voice. "Wow, I love your gloves. They're super soft."

Yunho flushes, blinking fast.

"Thanks. I'm Yunho."

"Yunho," San repeats, letting go of his hand. "I like it. You know?" San is leaning in a little, catching Yunho by surprise. His eyes widen when San closes his own, inhaling deeply. "You smell like sunflowers."

San moves back, eyes opening to look into Yunho's soul. He feels the way his glimmering eyes grip around his heart, applying a weird pressure.

"It brings me memories from home," he says, leaving Yunho hanging without knowing what to reply. It's the first time he doesn't get mad at someone smelling him, though. "Do you think we can be friends?"

Yunho sucks in a breath. 

"I don't have friends here," San adds with a sorrowful sigh. "You look nice, so I was thinking that maybe you wouldn't mind showing me around."

His demon roars, trying to take control of him, but the seal curls around his neck, shutting him up. Yunho is nodding without noticing it. 

"Of course."

"Great!" San leans over the counter, bringing a pen with him. He asks Yunho to roll up the sleeve of his sweater and totally and unconsciously bewitched by the exorcist's eyes, Yunho obeys in a second. San writes down his phone number there. "Call me, okay?" Yunho nods. "I'll see you." 

Yunho observes how he moves back, exiting the bookstore. It's just now when Yunho realizes the other exorcist standing outside, frowning. Not at him, but at San. They're soon disappearing in the crowd of college students coming out of campus. 

Just when San is out of sight, Yunho comes back to his senses. Body drained again, heart pounding, abruptly taking the air from his lungs.

"What just happened?" He whispers to himself, looking down at the phone number written in glittery pink ink. 

His demon scoffs. _'You stupidly fell for an exorcist's spell.'_

Yunho frowns, hands firmly pressed against the counter. 

"A spell?"

_'Exorcists have their ways. Usually, this ridiculous weak spell won't work on a demon, but it totally worked with you. You humans are so weak.'_

"As if you knew," Yunho grits his teeth. "You're just a voice in my head. You know about the world as much as I do."

 _'That's over, Yunho,'_ the voice sounds louder, echoing in every nook of his body. Yunho feels the way his throat closes, air bubbling there. _'It was nice pretending to be that little voice in your head all these years. The ghost of you I became because of this stupid seal. I only did it because you were lonely, and I didn't have any other chance. But my power keeps growing bigger with each passing day, and if I need to protect myself, I won't doubt using the body I was granted. We were supposed to be one, but we ended up as two different pieces. This body also belongs to me.'_

Yunho feels like laughing, one hand trembling against his chest. 

"So what? You can't kill me," he mumbles, hoping he is not wrong.

His demon sighs, sounding tired. _'I know. But you can occupy my place for the next twenty-five years. It's quite cozy down here if you ignore all the darkness and the infinite void threatening to suck you in.'_

"I thought we were friends," Yunho finds himself saying, scared of the creature resting inside his own body. 

_'This was meant to be my body. Mine. Your human part just got in the way, like they always do.'_

Yunho swallows, the demon's presence vanishing but not without leaving a heavy weight behind. Yunho's stomach curls around it. 

Great.

He just got threatened by the voice inside his own head that ended up being more real than Yunho ever imagined. 

  
  


﹢

Moving along the neat shelves of English Literature and History of Seoul books that have seen him shed the embarrassing three in the morning finals tears, Wooyoung gets pleased with the sound of his own shoes smacking against the floor. Library falling in utter silence, warm air and loads of heads pointing down. 

Exposed napes and hunched shoulders. Wooyoung is able to taste the stress on the tip of his tongue, and it's salty with a nuance of bitterness bubbling at the roar of his tongue.

Wooyoung might also be masochistic, because he adores the taste. And the long hours sitting down uncomfortable chairs, splinters of pain nailing on his back, following the line of his backbone. He loves sleeping on top of old books, having coffee for breakfast, lunch and dinner and leaving when the sky is already painted with micro galaxies. 

He also adores the rough, hurried, secret library sex. One hand harshly pressed against his lips, a warm mouth breathing on his neck, fogging his skin. The sex tastes spicy, and Wooyoung loves spicy. 

He adores the library and everything it holds inside. Today, nonetheless, he is not seeking any of that. 

Knowing the way, because they always study together at the same table, he finds Yeosang in less than ten minutes. Blonde hair tied up in a tiny ponytail, yellow sweatshirt sliding down the curve of his back. Letting his nape exposed. Wooyoung takes his chance, lightly pressing his lips in the fair skin, tasting the stress but also Yeosang's coconut soap.

Yeosang doesn't flinch, faintly looking at him behind the glass of his specs. 

"I thought it was someone hot," he sighs, whispering. Wooyoung takes the seat next to him. "Are you trying to make up for stealing Hwa from me? Because you will need more than a butterfly kiss for me to forgive you."

Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"It's been a week, get over it already."

"I can't," Yeosang sulks, going back to his work. He scribbles on top of the hurried and messy notes he must have taken last minute. "Yunho left me alone, you left me alone, and just when Hwa was about to lick every patch of my skin you booty called him. Sucks to be me."

"If it makes you feel better, I couldn't even enjoy it."

Yeosang glares at him.

"It infuriates me. You snatch my man, then you don't even enjoy it."

Wooyoung is fast moving to rub his nose against his cheek, arms enclosing around Yeosang's neck. The boy surrenders easily, resting his head on his shoulder. The people sitting around try to ignore them the best they can, some of them miserably failing at hiding the lustful gazes coming their way.

A lot of Wooyoung's hookups have mentioned it before during the small talk Wooyoung allows seconds before his pants are dropping on the floor. The idea of fucking together. With Yeosang. Not that Wooyoung dislikes the idea of getting in bed with two men, but Yeosang is like his baby brother. And, aside from the fact he can't pop a boner while thinking of Yeosang, the latter already made it crystal clear they would never touch each other's dicks unless it was drastic measures (like getting a snake bite on the balls and the only way to survive was sucking the venom out). 

"If you're going to stay, find another seat," Yeosang says, moving away. "That's Yunho's spot. I promised him I wouldn't ditch him for dick. Look how nice I am."

Wooyoung catches the ball of his lip ring between his teeth, lowering his gaze to catch the books displayed in front of him. Biochemistry. It's been six months but he is just finding out about Yunho's degree now. 

Quite sad.

"I was looking for him, actually," Wooyoung admits, catching the way Yeosang's eyes glimmer in curiosity. "Stop the dirty thoughts," he warns, raising his brows. 

"I'm not having dirty thoughts. Are you?"

"I am not. I need to talk with him."

"About?"

Wooyoung presses his temple.

"Just tell me where he is."

Yeosang huffs a laugh. "He had to meet with his tutor. He won't be coming back for a while. Still, don't take his seat. You can wait for him there," Yeosang points to the empty seat in front of him, but Wooyoung doesn't have intentions of pulling a library day today. 

"Don't worry," Wooyoung says, reaching out for one of Yeosang's post-it notes, fishing a pencil out of his messy case. He writes shortly, conscious of Yeosang's querying gaze. "I'll be gone now. Study well."

He says, flashing a smile before sticking the note into one of the books. 

"You are totally having the dirty thoughts," Yeosang scoffs.

Wooyoung sticks his tongue, enjoying the music his shoes make on his way out as well. 

﹢

_'Meet me behind the lib. I'll give you sumn yummy - woo'_

Yunho wants to scream from the top of his lungs, the quiet library becoming his worst enemy right now. 

"Bet he is offering you his dick," Yeosang whispers, cheek pressed against one of Yunho's shoulders. His eyes are glowing differently, one could say he is more expectantly than Yunho himself, and for that reason Yunho saves for himself the fact that, well, Wooyoung already offered his hole to him just a week ago.

And he rejected it.

Yeosang would go crazy if he finds out. 

Yunho was doing just fine avoiding Wooyoung. And avoiding San. And avoiding his own inner demon. And also avoiding Mingi because his new, totally life saving part time job takes a lot of time and he can't let his academics fall right at the end of the line. His week of avoiding was going well, until Yeosang asked for a library study buddy and Yunho felt he owed him.

He sighs, drained of energy already. 

"Do I really have to go?" He wonders in a mumble, fingers wrinkling the yellow note.

"You better," Yeosang gasps, louder than he needs, startling the girl sitting a few seats from them. She glares and Yunho is fast apologising, but Yeosang is staring at him, eyes burning with determination. "Woo might be a slut but he never picks. If he is approaching you first, he might be interested in you. And, believe me, Yun, Woo will fuck all your worries away. You will be reborn."

Yunho hisses, already feeling hot. He is deeply ashamed of how easily his body reacts to the thought of Wooyoung, too mad with his bully demon to ask him if he has something to do with it or it is just Yunho's human self again, that seems to be very weak when it comes to men.

"Have you… Ever… With Wooyoung…" Yunho mumbles, coyly looking at Yeosang.

"Oh, no. We are like brothers," Yeosang scrunches his nose in disgust. "But everyone knows it. Wooyoung fucks good."

Of course, Yunho knows. He is just trying to ignore it to not flame up like he did the last time he thought about Wooyoung and his hip game.

"Just go," Yeosang pats his back. "He came around one hour ago. Normally, he would've gotten bored after ten minutes. If he is still waiting, you have high chances of getting weekly sex for the rest of the year." The way Yeosang winks at him makes Yunho growl low. 

He chews around that thought as he makes his way down the stairs, trying to deflect from Wooyoung's naked body into something more innocent. Like a friendship. Maybe Wooyoung just wants to be his friend after all.

 _'I don't like him either',_ his demon scoffs. 

_'Is there someone you like?'_ Yunho barks back, fingers nailing on his palms.

 _'I like Mingi'_ , the demon says. 

Of course. 

Once he is out, warm breeze meeting his cheeks, Yunho gingerly makes his way to the little garden that lays behind the library. He tries to move on the sly, peeking from one corner before fully stepping in. There's no one there. 

Yunho's frantic heart dies in a pit of embarrassment, falling heavily with the realization that mayhaps he got a little bit excited to be different from the rest and able to catch Wooyoung's attention. Maybe he really craves another body pressed against his own. Whatever. 

As Yeosang said, Wooyoung must've left after waiting for ten minutes. Yunho sighs, somewhat defeated. 

"Finally. I thought you were avoiding me," suddenly, he is feeling something cold against his cheek. Yunho moves hastily, back meeting the rough surface of the wall, eyes falling on Wooyoung's face. He is just right there, unfazed, holding two bottles of iced americano in one hand. The other gracefully moves up, tugging one strand of black hair behind his ear. "I was getting thirsty," Wooyoung feels the need to explain his short absence. Yunho bites down his tongue, feeling like an idiot. "I brought you one. I don't know if you like coffee, though." 

Yunho's not so fond of bitter drinks, but he is not letting that out. 

"Ah," he breathes, hands reaching out to take the bottle from Wooyoung's hand. "Thanks."

"No problem," Wooyoung shrugs, walking right next to him to enter the garden. Yunho gulps, fingers tightly gripped around the plastic bottle. 

Wooyoung waited an hour for him. And he even bought him a drink. 

Yunho's head is pounding when he finally decides to follow the boy inside the garden, taking a seat next to him in the middle of the tiny prairie. Today, Wooyoung's hair delicately waves at each side of his face. Long enough to reach his cheekbones. He is not wearing any makeup, which is a relief, because Yunho is having a hard time trying to concentrate on any other thing that isn't Wooyoung's lip ring.

And, damn, how plump and moisturized his lips look right now. 

"About the note…" Yunho starts in a whisper, eyes moving to face the concrete wall. Ugly concrete wall that will totally keep his mind away from Wooyoung's gorgeous face. 

"Ah, yeah," Wooyoung suddenly remembers, searching for something inside his pocket and then tossing it into Yunho's lap. A bag of jelly beans. "Here you go. _Yummy._ "

Yunho looks down at the jelly beans, feeling a little disappointed by that. Maybe he needs to stop listening to both Yeosang _and_ his dick. It's not like he can have sex with Wooyoung anyway, so why wasting all his energy feeling downhearted? 

"Thanks," Yunho mumbles. "Can I go now?" 

"Actually, I've been wanting to have a talk with you."

Yunho arches a brow, one finger pointing at himself. He looks down at Wooyoung, noticing how he gracefully rests his forearms on his knees, head tilting to not miss any movement from Yunho.

"About what happened at Twilight Club," Yunho's heart squeals with the memory. "I'm sorry for cornering you like that. It was not a nice thing to do taking into account I don't even know if you like coffee." 

"I like coffee," Yunho stutters his lie. 

Wooyoung snorts.

"I'm used to people liking me, you know?" Wooyoung continues, eyes falling off Yunho's face to follow the line of sleep deprived students coming out of the library, resembling a group of ants going down the anthill. "In bed, I mean. I know the majority of campus think I'm a jerk when I'm fully dressed. Not that I care, they are useless with their clothes on. Ones are even useless while naked."

Yunho's brows twitch, forming a slight frown. 

"I didn't think at all when I asked you that night," Wooyoung is coming back to look at him, softly smiling with his eyes. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Oh, no," Yunho breathes, cheeks shamelessly dusting in vermilion with just the thought of Wooyoung's teeth playing with the ball of his lip ring and the pool of sheer desire splattering in his eyes. Almost like he wanted to devour him. Yunho's skin fizzles alone. "I was having a bad night. Don't worry, I'm not mad at you. It didn't–It's fine. I was just tired, sorry for acting up."

 _Honestly, I find you in every midnight fantasy but I don't really want to go through the explanation of why my skin is suddenly setting on fire again,_ Yunho thinks, biting down his tongue so the words don't make it out.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes, hands flat against the grass when he gets closer. Nose pointing up, eyes clashing on Yunho's parted lips.

"That's nice to hear," Wooyoung breathes, and he does it right against Yunho's skin. Bubbling with warmth, but sending cold shudders down his spine at the same time. Yunho moves to one side, slightly dragging his body over the grass. Putting some space between them. "Don't worry, I won't do it again."

Wooyoung laughs, moving back and nimbly jumping to his feet. He threads his fingers on his hair, pulling it back with a quick movement, eyes not leaving Yunho's face.

"I would love to have a longer talk, but it took you so long and I'm running late to work," he admits, Yunho's chest sinking with guilt. "I'm glad you aren't mad at me. Maybe we can use this chance to become friends. It's been six months."

"You don't need to–I mean, it's fine. I'm not mad, you don't need to try to make it up for me. Night was overall weird. Forget it."

"I'm not trying to make it up for you. I really feel like being friends with you," Wooyoung retraces his steps, squatting down in front of him, both hands holding his face. Yunho dies a little when Wooyoung squeezes his own cheeks. "We've been connected by Yeosang this whole time. I think it's time we finally start learning about each other, don't you think?"

Yunho is unable to do anything else aside from nodding like a fool. Although Wooyoung still carries with him a mysterious aura that makes his demon screech in apprehension and makes Yunho's stomach whine under the scorching heat at the same time, he doesn't feel like saying no to him. 

Because Wooyoung is soon sticking his tongue out, almost like he caught the one hundred glances Yunho shot to his lip ring, proudly showcasing another shiny ball of metal. In the middle of his tongue. 

Yunho can't say no to that. _Interjection,_ his dick can't say not to that. 

Wooyoung stands back with a smug grin. "Then that's it. I'll see you around, Yunho."

Yunho hates the way his entire body reacts to Wooyoung's voice. Not flaming up this time, but totally melting like a candle. He lies over the cold grass longer than he actually needs to, looking at the stupidly shaped like hearts clouds. 

﹢

Yunho turns twenty-five three days after his conversation with Wooyoung, which isn't time enough to consolidate their fresh friendship because they don't see each other again until Yunho is crashing on Yeosang's couch and Wooyoung is crashing on top of him. 

Saturday night, Yeosang texts him in the morning, inviting him to his apartment to celebrate his birthday. Yunho accepts, thinking of a bottle of vodka and some movies, popcorn and greasy birthday pizza, like he is already used to. 

He should've guessed Yeosang had other things in mind.

"How dare you come to your own birthday party looking like that?" Yeosang spits the second he opens the door for Yunho, eyes rapidly checking his outfit. Sweatpants and a blue hoodie. He didn't even do his hair, not going further than the cozy plan already settled in his mind.

Yeosang is wearing leather, and his eyelashes are totally white under a type of makeup Yunho doesn't recognize. 

"You didn't tell me the plan," Yunho pouts, entering Yeosang's wide and dreamlike apartment. All for himself, with big windows and a living room the size of Yunho's entire apartment. 

"You don't turn twenty-five twice," Yeosang scolds, clicking his tongue. "This calls for desperate measures. There's no way my clothes fit you."

Yunho frowns, still too focused on Yeosang's face to look around and catch the body splattered on the couch.

"What's wrong with my hoodie?" Yunho got it as a gift from his mother just that morning, already becoming his favorite one, so he has no qualms about glaring at Yeosang. 

"You can't get inside _Horizon_ like that. See," Yeosang sighs, arms akimbo, "this is the reason you don't get laid. Show a little skin, be wild for one night."

Yunho is pretty content with the amount of skin he shows with his outfits, and if only Yeosang knew how wild his life has been running for the past weeks he wouldn't be saying any of that.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Yeosang shakes his head, immediately pulling his phone and typing. 

"I'm telling Hwa to bring you some clothes. You're almost the same size."

"Hwa's shoulders are not that broad," Yunho is soon jumping back, startled by the sweet voice coming from the couch. He catches Wooyoung there, late. Too late to run away.

The boy is wearing tight red and black pants, molding to his legs like a second layer of skin. A tank top, arms on sight. Yunho can't roam around the smooth skin of his arms and perfect lines of his relaxed muscles because Wooyoung's skin is covered in dozens of platinum stars. Sticked everywhere. Arms, shoulders, curling around his neck and splashing in the cavity between his collarbones. Yunho is sure the stars drip down his chest, but the shirt is covering that patch of skin. _Thankfully._

When Wooyoung looks up at him, he finds stars under his eyes. The same white eyelashes. Glittery lipgloss. 

Yunho is torn between this being the best birthday ever or the worst. 

"Something tight will look good on him, it's fine," Yeosang is saying, but Yunho isn't listening. Neither is Wooyoung, putting his phone down to grin at him.

"Happy birthday," he chants, Yunho's heart throbbing at the way the lipgloss makes Wooyoung's lips look like a small galaxy. Liquid stardust dripping with every word. 

It's too much for sweet friendship.

His hands get all itchy under the velvety gloves, but he is glad he added a double layer of hand cream to calm the pain before going out. He regrets not putting his hand into good use before though, all his body parts rubbing sore with the mere vision of Wooyoung. 

"How do you feel?" Wooyoung asks and Yunho's cheeks spin in vermilion. 

"What?"

"Turning twenty-five. I was born in November so I'm still kind of feeling like twenty-three."

Wooyoung shifts delicately, sitting down. Yunho decides to remain still, ignoring the way Yeosang starts pacing next to him, phone in hand. 

"The same?" Yunho's voice cracks. "Just another day, nothing different."

"Tonight can be different," Wooyoung purrs.

"Excuse me?"

"You'll see it when we get there," Wooyoung closes his eyes, stretching his arms in the air. The stars dazzle under the light of Yeosang's living room.

Loads of unbidden thoughts start flooding Yunho's mind, and he is so glad his demon decided to disappear to grant him a good birthday wish because right now, _right now_ Yunho doesn't feel like sharing the artwork Wooyoung is displaying in front of him with anyone. 

Yeosang is abruptly throwing his body on top of Yunho, yanking him from his own little ocean of stars. Yeosang pushes him into the couch, knees crashing against the armrest. 

"Woo, do his makeup," he orders. "Something soft but that screams _I'm the birthday bitch_ at the same time. Hwa is bringing his red leather jacket, you can start from there."

Wooyoung's eyes go wide.

"I love that jacket."

"Don't start drooling," Yeosang scoffs. "It's Yunho's birthday, focus on him for the night."

Yunho clenches his jaw. _No, thanks. Please, ignore me._

Wooyoung pliantly listens to Yeosang, patting the spot next to him. 

"Lay down. I'll bring the makeup."

Yunho is reluctant to lay down, sitting down with quivering legs and a frantic heart making music out of his own misery. Looking down at his own dick, Yunho _begs_ to behave. 

_Please._

"Lay down," Wooyoung repeats, coming back from Yeosang's bathroom with the makeup cradled on his arms. Yunho refuses, and after scattering the makeup on Yeosang's coffee table, Wooyoung presses a hand flat against Yunho's chest, gently shoving him down. "Don't make things complicated."

Yunho bites down his tongue, eyes meeting the popcorn ceiling. And there he tries to distract himself from the way Wooyoung is soon caging his body with both legs, calmly taking a seat on his lap. Yunho tries to count every bump of paint there. 

Wooyoung looks relaxed, nothing he hadn't done before and Yunho is soon roaming around the fact that maybe the boy is used to being in that type of position. Yunho doesn't want to go that way, hitting some internal brakes because the moment he starts thinking about the postures Wooyoung is more comfortable with he will be fast crashing into naked Wooyoung and sexual postures and humiliatingly popping a boner. Right against Wooyoung's ass.

No. He doesn't want that.

"You have a nice skin," Wooyoung mumbles, fingers softly moving all over his cheeks, adding a refreshing substance that immediately cools Yunho's skin down. 

"Thanks?"

Wooyoung chuckles, moving to pick the foundation. Ass rubbing against Yunho's dick. Just what he needs right now. Wooyoung sighs, lips dazzling, making himself comfortable, applying some foundation on the back of his hand before professionally starting covering Yunho's skin.

It's cold against Yunho's skin, but Wooyoung's fingers are incredibly hot. Heart pumping blood with every touch. Yunho wonders if Wooyoung's is able to feel it in his fingertips: the way his heart is pounding. 

"Wow, you're so blushed, Yuyu," Yeosang chants when Wooyoung starts moving the brush over his cheeks, adding soft pink to his already rosy cheeks. Yunho flushes harder, drawing a giggle from his friend's lips. "Now you're blushing for real. Cute. Good job," he says to Wooyoung then.

Wooyoung's eyes don't leave Yunho's face.

"It matches your hair color," Wooyoung says, telling Yunho personally. "Pretty."

Yunho doesn't want to find out what he is referring to. The blush, Yunho's hair, the blush on Yunho. 

The bell is ringing before Yunho can get immersed in it, another man making his way behind Yeosang. Yunho looks up, catching his face as he places a bag on the free couch. Handsome. He is so mad another gorgeous man had to appear, as if he hadn't enough already. Black hair slicked back, leather jacket molding to his shoulders, red lipstick and a tiny gem under both his eyes. A vague feeling of recognition invades Yunho's mind.

It must be because of how many times Yeosang has ranted about him. Seonghwa. Yunho doesn't know a lot about him, aside from Yeosang wanting to get in his pants for years. The reason he hasn't yet, Yunho doesn't know.

"Oh," Seonghwa is turning on his heels, eyes falling from Wooyoung's face to clash on Yunho's. "I know you! Last week, at Twilight–"

"Don't go that way, Hwa," Wooyoung warns in such a sweet voice that has Yunho shrinking beneath him. 

Yunho remembers now. He is the boy that met up with Wooyoung in that room one week ago. So maybe that's the reason why Yeosang hadn't made a move yet. 

Yunho's heart foolishly weeps with the thought of Seonghwa and Wooyoung fucking together. Being friends and fucking. He thought Wooyoung never fucked twice with the same person. Unless, as Yeosang mentioned, he is the one approaching that person.

Maybe Yunho's not as special as his midnight fantasies try to convince him. 

"What happened at Twilight?" Yeosang gets curious. 

"Nothing," Wooyoung moves a hand to close Yunho's eyes, the soft brush tickling him the next second. 

"I ate him out," Seonghwa barks a laugh. Yunho sinks with something that totally resembles jealousy. The one he shouldn't be feeling because the chances of sharing a bed with Wooyoung are null. 

"He told me he didn't enjoy it," Yeosang exposes.

"Miss me with that bullshit, Woo. You came just with my tongue in your ass." 

"Why don't you do something useful and get me a drink?" Wooyoung sighs. 

"What?" Yeosang laughs. "Scared Yunho finds out what makes you cum faster?"

Yunho squeezes his eyes, Wooyoung pinching his cheek as a reprimand, brush still moving over his eyelids. He doesn't reply to what Yeosang asked, silence surrounding them. Yunho hears the mix of giggles and footsteps fading at his back. There's the sound of one door slamming closed—the kitchen one, Yunho guesses for the sound of crystal bottles clinking against each other—and Yeosang is giggling again.

Yunho is left alone with Wooyoung and the frantic pace of his heart. 

"You can open your eyes now," Wooyoung says, sweetly, unshaken. He is holding two different lip glosses in front of him. "Which one do you prefer?"

For Yunho they look exactly the same shade of pink. And honestly, he doesn't have room in his mind for that right now. 

"I don't know. You're the one doing my makeup."

"Then, can I choose?" Yunho nods, throat closing around a sigh. Wooyoung's eyes light up, one hand moving to part Yunho's lips before pressing the brush against it. "Rub them together," Wooyoung asks, and Yunho obeys, the slight taste of cherry gluing to his tongue. Wooyoung smiles, proud of the way Yunho raises his eyebrows in surprise. "This is my personal favorite. Tastes good, right?"

Yunho nods, finally being freed of Wooyoung's weight. Sitting down, Yunho is facing his own reflection in the mirror Wooyoung tends him. It's nothing as flamboyant as Wooyoung's makeup, but Yunho's heart swells with the sight. 

There's blush covering his nose and cheeks, a soft shade of peach on his eyelids. Lips glossy, rosy and desirable. Kisseable, he would add if he wasn't embarrassed by the astonished expression meeting him in the mirror. 

"One last thing," Wooyoung mumbles, one hand resting under his chin, forcing him to look up. Wooyoung's eyes never leave his parted lips, almost like he is having the same thoughts, fingers applying pressure over his cheeks. Looking back into the mirror, Yunho finds four tiny golden stars there. "The birthday bitch," Wooyoung sings, one hand threading on Yunho's hair. "What should we do with your hair?"

Yunho looks up, gulping. Wooyoung's pupils covering the soft brown of his eyes in glistering black. Yunho can't help but get lost in his uncanny gaze, forgetting to answer. For five seconds, they stare into each other's eyes in silence, Wooyoung's fingers still digging in his hair. Fingertips softly brushing his scalp. 

Yeosang and Seonghwa are exiting the kitchen before Yunho can blow everything out. Wooyoung fidgets with the sound, fingers finally letting go. 

Yunho's heart moved up his throat without him noticing, dangerously threatening him to fall off his mouth if he dares to speak. He moves aside, making room for Wooyoung to sit next to him, legs crossed. Yunho imitates him. 

"Before we start the party," Yeosang says loudly as Seonghwa places the glasses and drinks on the coffee table, not bothering to set the makeup apart. Pulling a crumpled up piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans, Yeosang smiles proudly before tending it to a puzzled Yunho. "Happy birthday, Yuyu."

Yunho scowls, picking the piece of paper and unfolding it. Curiosity soaks his tongue when he catches the image of an apartment on rent there. 

"What's this?"

"I found you a flat," Yeosans says, cheerful. "It's near campus and cheap. Look, look."

Yunho looks. Yeah. It is cheap. He looks back at Yeosang, concerned. For the past two weeks, Yunho has been searching and searching and getting nothing but skyrocketing prices making him cry. And he never came across this specific apartment. 

Three rooms, two bathrooms. A wide kitchen and a tiny balcony Yunho is already imagining himself having breakfast in. 

"How did you find it?"

"I got lucky," Yeosang flashes him a smile. "An old classmate texted into the degree groupchat saying they will be leaving it and that the landlord is desperate to find new people. Of course, I snatched it. No one has this information, so I suggest you call him in the morning to save you a room."

Yunho is touched to the deepest part of his being. And if it wasn't because of Wooyoung's pretty makeup, he would allow himself to cry a little. He doesn't, but he does hug Yeosang, leaving the paper forgotten on the couch.

"Are all rooms available?" Wooyoung's voice is soon floating around them. Yunho turns fast, catching the way the boy is looking at the paper. 

"Yeah," Yeosang says, a smug grin curving his lips in no time. "Are you interested as well, Woo?"

_Oh, no._

"Changbin will cry if you finally leave his couch," Seonghwa adds, pouring himself a glass of rum. "Of happiness. You need your own place, you're not eighteen anymore."

"I don't know," Wooyoung sighs, eyes crashing on Yunho's face. "This is Yunho's birthday gift. Would that be okay?" He asks then, sugar dripping from his tongue. "Living together."

Of course. There's no way Yunho is getting a flat without the bad side of it. He is not that lucky.

"Don't overthink, you both need a place to live," Yeosang answers for him, one hand patting Yunho's back. "Plus, you are already friends, right? What can go wrong?"

Oh, the amount of things that can go wrong, Yeosang can't even imagine it. To start with, Wooyoung is already smiling like he hit the jackpot, and his promise of not cornering Yunho again with sexual proposals seems weaker than the seal patching Yunho's power. 

﹢

Yunho has never been to Horizon Club before, jaw dropping and heart shrinking when he gets a foot inside and everything he can see is bathed in dark blue. Almost like stepping in the bottom of the ocean, he is soon feeling breathless. His skin soaks in blue under all the lights and next to him, Yunho finally catches the point of Yeosang's and Wooyoung's white makeup.

Wooyoung's eyelashes are glowing in neon unearth the lights. The stars dazzle with their own light and his glossy lips resemble the surface of the ocean threatening to drown him. 

Wooyoung is drunk.

Yunho barely drank back at Yeosang's place, untouched glass of gin in his hand, still roaming about the idea that he might have accepted sharing a flat with Wooyoung for the rest of the year, totally pressured by society. A very long year, with a very hot Wooyoung. 

Morning Wooyoung, with mussed hair and drowsy eyes, pouty lips asking for breakfast. But also night Wooyoung, skin dewing with sweat, lips parted, not trying to muffle his moans at all. Yunho won't survive it. He will either flame up to death—if that's even possible, which according to his bored demon, it is not—or push Wooyoung into one wall of their soon to be shared flat and succumb to his lips and tongue. And, die, because Wooyoung will be calling the hunters with the sight of white fire viciously licking Yunho's skin. 

It's totally a death-death situation. 

Yunho wanted to tell him no. Find a way to not sound like a dickhead for denying him a room when he is also in need of a flat and both Yeosang and Seonghwa were there cheering for them. But Wooyoung drank until he was giggling and interlacing his fingers with Yunho's gloved fingers. 

So soft, Yunho melted with his own inner fire. In spite of all the things hooked to Wooyoung's name, Yunho is able to see he is a good kid. He can't tell him no. 

_'That's why humans are so weak,'_ his demon laughs at the roar of his head, echoing for a second before leaving him alone. 

Maybe Yunho is weak. But at least that doesn't make him a horrible person. 

Making their way between bouncing and sweaty bodies, they finally find an empty spot far from the dance floor. Yeosang and Seonghwa leave them there alone for a couple minutes, making their way to the counter to ask for some drink Yeosang called the 'A night to _not_ remember'. Yunho doesn't want to know what that will include. He hopes nothing strong enough to make him lose his head and do something stupid. 

Like kissing Wooyoung. Or worse. 

_'I can take good care of your body if that happens,'_ the demon scoffs.

_'Fuck off already.'_

Definitely, Yunho can't get as drunk as Wooyoung, eyes closed and dancing next to him. He is sitting, one leg resting on top of Yunho's thigh, but he still moves like he is in the middle of the dancefloor. Gracefully, but tempting at the same time. The stars glow with every movement of his arms, and Yunho has to admit if it wasn't for the makeup and all the stars making a home on his skin, Yunho wouldn't have been able to spot him under the dark lights and dense smoke watering his eyes. 

Yeosang and Seonghwa are back after ten minutes with a full set of glowing shots.

"This is the strongest shit you'll ever try, Yuyu," Yeosang warns in between giggles, one hand on his back and the other pointing at the sixteen tiny glasses fully occupying the table. "Your hand will act out of reflex with the first drop touching your tongue and you will spill everything. It happened to me before. So, there's a specific way of drinking it."

Great. Yunho's stomach becomes a solid stone. 

"Woo, teach him."

Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, glowing lashes trembling with the movement. They move to one side, making room for Wooyoung to sit right in front of the purple shot Yeosang places near the edge of the table for him. Yunho gulps, hands sweating under the velvety gloves, observing how the muscles of Wooyoung's back tense, arms pressed at his back, moving his head down to catch the glass between his lips. With a quick movement, he is dropping his head back, liquid fast flowing down his throat, not time to spill it because he doesn't have time to even taste it. His eyes squeeze shut, lips tensing around the glass, fogging the inside for a second. 

Yunho gulps, eyes carefully following Wooyoung's movements. He starts coughing once he pulls the glass out. 

"Fucking shit," he mumbles, eyes fast looking for Yunho. "Now, try it. You can't hesitate."

Yunho _doesn't_ want to try it. Maybe it's because of his demon senses, but he is able to catch the strong scent swaddling Wooyoung's words. Way too strong for him. 

Wooyoung is already placing a shot on the table, this time a pink one. Yunho stares down at it, already feeling the way his skin sizzles. He _can't_ drink it because then he will totally forget how to think clearly and Wooyoung looks so exquisite next to him to ignore him once he is out of his brains. 

Still feeling Wooyoung's gaze piercing the side of his face, Yunho moves until his lips are brushing against his ear. 

"It's too dark. Can you show me again?"

Wooyoung chuckles.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" 

Yunho wants to retort that Wooyoung was already way too drunk before Yunho could even put on the clothes Seonghwa brought for him—he feels a little bad for making him drink more, but as Yeosang said earlier, this calls for drastic measures—but Wooyoung moves fast, lips easily curling around his second shot.

When he plops back, his head crashes against Yunho's shoulder. Yunho doesn't miss the way the stars on Wooyoung's neck wave with the new tidal of liquid making its way down. It's absurdly beautiful. 

"Did you catch it this time?" Wooyoung gurgles, rolling his eyes when Yunho shakes his negative. "Okay, let me teach you," Wooyoung's hand flies to Yunho's nape, warm fingers applying a good pressure down his sticky with sweat nape.

Yunho feels Wooyoung's strength, a lot of strength for such a tiny man, easily hunching him down. Wooyoung's hand guides him close to the table, placing a yellow shot in front of him this time. The smell burns his nostrils, jaw tightening by instinct. Somewhere in the uproar of people, Yeosang screams delighted. 

Wooyoung's lips come closer to Yunho's face, teeth shamelessly catching his earlobe and biting softly before speaking. Yunho's entire body is cracking from the inside. 

"Curl your lips over your teeth, don't bite the glass, it will break."

Wooyoung's hand moves from his nape to his neck, fingers drumming there for a few seconds. Totally catching Yunho's frantic pulse but way too wasted to think about it. 

"You will choke a little, but it's okay. We all choke at first."

Yunho inhales deeply, turning up to be a horrible mistake, the alcohol burning his nose and throat. He moves back, fighting Wooyoung's hand. Looking into his eyes, he finds an amused look pooling there. 

"I need to go to the bathroom first," Yunho blurts, fingers curling around Wooyoung's delicate wrist, tugging from his hand with as much care as he can. 

He needs a motherfucking rest. 

﹢

San observes the way Yunho springs out of the couch and nervously runs towards the bathroom not before crashing—and politely apologising—against a few wasted bodies in the way. Amusement drips on San's tongue. Yunho really is clumsily cute for a demon.

It kind of annoys San's exorcist part, demons shouldn't be allowed to make his heart swell. The other part is delighted with that sight, a little mad that the boy never called him. He knows the spell worked on him incredibly good. Yet, more than a week went by without Yunho approaching him, nearly seeing through the spell. That just proves how clear the line draws between his demon part and his human part. 

It totally forced San to sneak out and follow him around without anyone knowing. Not even Jongho. 

Yunho's just another boring college student, feeding San's curiosity even more. Much more after following him into a rowdy, filled with smoke and flashing lights club and finding he is friends with Wooyoung.

How small can the World be. And how sweet. 

San's eyes fly to the couch where Wooyoung is now frowning. The boy looks gorgeous covered in all those stars. It's not a secret that San has always found Wooyoung pretty. Since the first time he laid his eyes on him, engulfed in all white, forthysia's petals adorning his hair, to the very last, already engulfed in black and carrying that burning hatred within his eyes. 

Right now, Wooyoung's eyes are as soft as San remembers. Soon catching him in the middle of the ocean of people, white eyelashes batting repeatedly, roughly thinking he is part of his drunken stupor. San's lips curl in a lopsided smile, waving at him.

Wooyoung stands up, making his way through the people, much more gracefully than Yunho, standing in front of him in less than a heartbeat. San takes a hand to his neck, trying to protect himself, but Wooyoung is looking at him the same way he used to do when they were kids. Firm, but sweet. 

"What are you doing here? Following me again? I already told you I don't need you to take care of me. Stop being annoying," Wooyoung groans as a greet. 

San forgets about the world, eyes on Wooyoung only. 

"Everybody needs someone to take care of them," San whispers, one hand moving to cup Wooyoung's face, thumbs brushing the tiny star glowing under his eye. "You the most."

Wooyoung pushes his hand away, softly.

"I don't," he cuts, pursing his lips in a tight line. "And I don't want you to take care of me."

"Why?" San tilts his head, smile dangling on his lips.

"Because it makes me hate you less, miss you more," Wooyoung admits, frowning, almost like he is not in control anymore, alcohol numbing all his senses, putting his brain-to-mouth filters to rest. And, past the happiness filling his heart thanks to these words, San is glad to know they are practically the same. 

San moves both his hands up, catching Wooyoung's face between his fingers. Cold meeting warm. Wooyoung's face is burning. San brushes his thumbs, enjoying the way Wooyoung just rests there, staring into his eyes, not complaining. He is so drunk, it's adorable. 

"Will you let me take care of you for tonight? Just tonight. For the good old days."

San has always been absurdly weak when it comes to Wooyoung. Jongho used to make fun of him, saying that it was embarrassingly obvious how in love he was, adding that the raw feelings he had for Wooyoung would never be requited. That he would end up dead because of him and Wooyoung would not even flinch. 

San was not even a little bit mad. Because it was true. It is still true.

San will always be Wooyoung's, even when Wooyoung is not San's anymore. 

And that's why the thought of Yunho and his demon and whoever exorcists smelling like sunflowers helped him to walk among the humans like one of them is fast vanishing. Eyes only on Wooyoung's, not as sleepy as he expected them to be when he says: 

"Will you tuck me to bed or will you fuck me on the floor? Because if it's the first one, you better leave me the fuck alone." 

San gulps, fingers twitching against the warmth of Wooyoung's round cheeks. Now he is also burning up, lips parting. Air flowing. Heart pounding. 

Wooyoung stares at him, eagerly. 

San lost his head for Wooyoung a long time ago.

"Okay," he mumbles. "I'll take care of you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be me but the sexual tension between yunho and his demon damn
> 
> unplanned cliffhanger I was actually gona add the sexy part here but then I hit 10K and my brain said nope


	4. these scars will bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good San only comes around when Wooyoung is drunk, or when the long nights turn his chest into stone and the cushions underneath his body turn to water and soon he is dragged into the riptide.
> 
> San is the one saving him. And maybe that's why Wooyoung's been keeping his mind out for so long. To avoid the past. To keep San from coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // sex under the influence of alcohol, use of drugs, mentions of murder, lots of angst
> 
> yep, this fic is turning dark and twisty I'm sorry  
> also, sorry if the first part feels messy and a little bit incoherent, I tend to become one with the character and even with third person writing, the writing twists around the character's way of seeing things. so, woo's drunk and his head is a mess. it was on purpose. I tend to overthink a LOT when I am drunk so that's how I wrote it, idk if someone would relate
> 
> this [song](https://youtu.be/MBu_jP-MlBY) kinda relates to woosan so I'll be sharing it! <3
> 
> ANYWAY I will shut up and letting you read <3

* * *

There's a voice inside of Wooyoung's head sighing tiredly, a blurry silhouette at the roar of his mind crossing its arms and giving him an acceptance look as Wooyoung sticks his tongue inside San's mouth without thinking about the aftermath first. Baffling aftermath including the damp morning regret. But, God, how warm San's mouth is. 

Wooyoung missed it. 

The warmth of San's tongue slowly tangling around his own. Lips meeting calmly, almost like they saw each other just yesterday. Not as hungry as Wooyoung felt before actually moving forward and kissing him. Sharing a breath. Fingers secured in the beautiful tangle of pink hair San showed in, that not only looks like cotton candy but also smells like it. 

They kiss like they have all the time in the world to waste on each other's warm mouths. And Wooyoung missed it. Wooyoung will never stop missing it. 

Something he would never admit if he was sober, because sober Wooyoung is linked to every bad memory of San. Memories of sixteen year old San arduously holding onto Wooyoung's hands until his nails were scratching his skin open and blood was staining their matching immaculate attires. Red over white. Memories of San begging him to stay when Wooyoung's heart was shattering.

Luckily for him, Wooyoung is drunk. Not wasted, but drunk enough to feel light and silly and like he is able to walk on clouds. Not tired but willing to run a marathon all over the world or get his thighs bitten until he is not feeling his legs anymore. And drunk Wooyoung is linked to every good memory of San. The San that used to hug him to sleep, rub his back and pamper his face in soft kisses, the San that always sneaked into the kitchen to get him his favorite cookies, the San he thought he would be walking hand in hand with for the rest of their long existences. 

The good San only comes around when Wooyoung is drunk, or when the long nights turn his chest into stone and the cushions underneath his body turn to water and soon he is dragged into the riptide.

San is the one saving him. And maybe that's why Wooyoung's been keeping his mind out for so long. To avoid the past. To keep San from coming.

Regardless of how hard he tried, San is back. And Wooyoung missed the good San. _His_ San. 

The taste of his name on his tongue. It's been years since the last time he let it slide from his brain, piling down in one corner of his heart and adding a heavy stone that has San's name carved to everything sinking him down. 

He can say it now. Let it out of his chest. Turn that stone into a diamond or something. Wooyoung doesn't care and he majored in economics so he doesn't actually have a clue about what kind of thing he wants his stone to turn out to be. Something shiny for sure, like San's eyes. 

"San," he babbles, rugged breathing clashing on top of San's lips. Numb fingers twining around San's hair, not allowing him to move back. It's not like San has intentions of leaving, anchoring his hands on Wooyoung's hips to keep him close. There's no space between their chests, Wooyoung is sure San is able to count his heartbeats just like that. Skin against skin. Hearts fusing into one after so long. "San. San. San."

"What's wrong? Should we stop?"

"Just wanted to say your name," Wooyoung huffs a laugh, catching San's lower lip between his teeth instead, gobbling up the moan coming out of San's throat. Contrasting their choppy breathing, Wooyoung's bite is unhurried. Taking his time to pull, drawing as many raspy moans as he can out of the boy. "San. I've missed you."

Wooyoung is not lying, and for the first time in years, he feels good around the memory of San. He is happy to know San is in town, he is happy to hold him around his arms again. He is happy San still looks at him with so much adoration in his eyes, making Wooyoung wonder. 

_What the hell happened? Why didn't you come with me in the first place if you look ready to run across the world to take care of me? What did I miss?_

The questions don't last enough to make a home in his brain, and Wooyoung comes back to being happy. 

Happiness will brush away once nighttime bliss turns into morning regret and he will be left alone with the same ugly resentment and emptiness as always. And he won't be able to face San without feeling guilty.

There are still a few hours before the sun is soaring through the sky, so he decides to put on auto-pilot. And whatever happens, he will find a way to deal with it. Like he has been doing for over nine years.

"I know you don't mean it," San is sighing on top of his lips, gently catching Wooyoung's upper lip between his own. "But it feels so nice to hear it. Can you say it again?"

"I've missed you," Wooyoung frowns, a deep sigh slipping through his lips when San starts kissing his cheeks. Softly. Reminiscing the good old days, just like he wanted. Wooyoung doesn't push him aside, internally enjoying the warmth San spreads with every butterfly kiss. "I mean it. Drunk people always tell the truth. And I am _super_ drunk." 

San snorts, lips trailing a way of kisses all over Wooyoung's skin until he is reaching his neck. Tongue falling heavy right where his jawbone ends, dripping an amount of tepid saliva he would've found dirty any other time, but not now. Wooyoung rolls his eyes instead, hands falling at San's back, tugging at his shirt this time. 

"You being conscious of how drunk you are just tells you're not as drunk as you think you are."

"Less lecturing, more kissing," Wooyoung groans, the rapid way San obeys and goes back to press his lips on every shiny star of his neck sending goosebumps all over his skin. He knows San can taste them. "We should get out of here. I still want you to fuck me."

"Hmm. And where should we go?"

A good question. 

Wooyoung squeezes his eyes shut for a second, pushing San by the chest to get a little air inside his lungs. Embarrassingly hard in his pants, half of his makeup glowing on San's face right now. It kind of makes his stomach warm with the sight of that. His lipgloss sticking to San's own lips.

He is responsible for the way San glows. 

It's true he is drunk, but he always had a high alcohol tolerance. He is pretty sure of what he wants to do, as well as pretty conscious they are still standing in the middle of Horizon. Roaming around the crowded place, he quickly finds what he is looking for: the couch he was sitting at just a few minutes ago. Only Yeosang and Seonghwa are there now. 

"Come on," Wooyoung moves back, fingers around San's wrist, pulling him towards the couch. 

Yeosang is sitting on Seonghwa's lap, enjoying a very private moment, lips on the older's jaw. Wooyoung doesn't care at all, fearlessly tapping on Yeosang's shoulder. He gets Yeosang's glare in one second.

"No way," Yeosang barks above the loud music, arms enclosing around Seonghwa's neck. "Not tonight, Woo. I love you, but you got a better ass than me. You should be letting me enjoy some dick in exchange."

Wooyoung clicks his tongue, one hand in the air.

"Give me your keys," he demands. 

"What?"

"Your apartment keys. Give them to me."

Yeosang squints, then looks around him, searching for something. San rests his chin over Wooyoung's shoulder. 

"Who are you fucking?"

Wooyoung's fingers tighten around San's wrist. The boy snuggles closer, nose rubbing against Wooyoung's cheek when he speaks.

"Normal humans can't see me right now."

Great. Wooyoung just hopes no one saw him ridiculously making out with the fucking air. 

"No one," Wooyoung says, impatiently wiggling his fingers in the air. "I want to sleep. Give me your keys so I can crash on an actual bed instead of Changbin's shitty couch."

Yeosang loosens his hold, allowing Seonghwa to speak. 

"Are you going with Yunho?" He asks, and Yeosang parts his lips in realization, smirk taking over his expression in one second. "You don't need to pretend, we've seen how he looks at you."

"And how you look at him," Yeosang adds. "Suck each other's dicks already. The tension between you two is suffocating."

Wooyoung growls low, not realizing the amount of strength he is applying to his hold until San is whimpering next to him. Wooyoung lets go, almost like he got a burn, the mere sound sending shudders down his spine. San genuinely smiles, interlacing their fingers together. Everything is fine. Wooyoung sighs. 

Looking back at Yeosang, he purses his lips in discomfort. He doesn't know where Yunho is, but he knows he rejected him twice already. Wooyoung doesn't understand why, Yunho not being the best at hiding his interest. It's obvious he _wants_ Wooyoung, and Wooyoung wouldn't mind having him wrapped around his body seven days a week if it wasn't for all the nonsense rejection Yunho is throwing at him. 

But right now he doesn't have room to wonder what's going on inside Yunho's head. Right now he wants to be desired, he wants someone to call him pretty and pamper his skin with kisses. He is not up for some stupid tug of war. 

"Yunho left already. I think. I don't care, he is an adult. He can do whatever he wants. And I'm really tired, can you please?" Wooyoung pleads, wiggling his fingers again.

"Are you maybe sad Yunho left without you?" Yeosang wonders. "You see, I know you, Woo. We've been friends for so long, and you were a slut before even meeting. But, when you look at Yunho, you don't use your slutty eyes. You look at him, _hmmmmmm_ , intrigued? Maybe? Wait," Yeosang stops in the middle of a drunken epiphany, "are you maybe developing hearty feelings for Yun? Is that why you haven't fucked already?"

"This has nothing to do with Yunho." Wooyoung grits. 

It's not the time to go through the recent realization that Yunho might be more than an average cute guy. That he might be kind of different to the rest and he kind of makes Wooyoung's hands sweaty. 

It's not really the time because San's fingers are fidgeting underneath his hold and Wooyoung still remembers how he always did that every time he wasn't feeling comfortable. 

"We're literally celebrating his birthday," Seonghwa snorts. "How did we end up without the birthday boy?"

"I don't care. Yeosang, keys."

"Have mine," Seonghwa says when Yeosang protests, quickly throwing the keys into Wooyoung's hand. Wooyoung doesn't complain, he just needs a bed. He doesn't care whose. "My flat is nearer, and you left a hoodie there. Use it to sleep. Because that's what you're doing, right?"

"Sleeping like a baby," Wooyoung sentences, highly proud of how even his voice sounds through his lie. "Have fun."

"We will!" Yeosang is chanting as Wooyoung turns on his heels. 

Wooyoung pulls from San again, making their way out of the sweltering club and into the cold night. The difference of temperatures between the air and his skin is so wide he is soon feeling the pain piercing his cheeks like tiny needles.

"Why aren't we going to your place? Scared I find out where you live?" San sounds calm despite the shaking of his hand. The perfect exorcist's voice. 

"I don't have a place," Wooyoung admits, like it's nothing. It really is nothing. His ideas might be clear but he is still moving fueled by the alcohol. He has one objective, getting San naked and on top of his body, and everything else doesn't matter right now. It should, but it doesn't. "I've been crashing at a friend's couch. But you can't fuck me there."

"Why don't you have a place?"

"Been working a lot, barely home. It's not really your business."

"I know," San takes a deep breath.

"Don't be sulky. You'll ruin the mood."

"I'm not sulking," San pouts. 

Wooyoung gives his hand a squeeze, pulling from him through the empty streets, following the well known way to Seonghwa's cozy apartment. 

"You're always sulking."

That's one of the things drunk Wooyoung remembers vividly. The way San would always pout and get all sulky when he got something wrong and Wooyoung was fast correcting him. Wooyoung loved that pout. He wishes his legs could move faster just so he can push him down the mattress and devour that pout already. 

Silence follows them for the rest of the way, shoes scratching the concrete, then echoing around the wide doorway of Seonghwa's building. San's back crashes against the elevator wall, Wooyoung's body pressed hard against him, fingers blindly pressing a lot of buttons. For over five floors, doors squeaking open at every one, their tongues play with each other messily and hot. Faster than before, starting to feel desperate. Wooyoung knows half of it comes from the alcohol, the fire on his lungs becoming unbearable when the elevator rings again and the doors open at their destination. But the other half totally comes from San's riveting taste. 

San tenderly kisses Wooyoung's nape as he tries to find the door lock.

"Want a glass of water?" Wooyoung asks, finally getting inside and turning on the lights. It rages him how San looks even more breathtaking under dim lights. May it be because of the mess Wooyoung's fingers made on his pink hair, or the swollen glossy lips that part without a sound, nodding. 

Wooyoung avoids looking into his compelling eyes, moving to the kitchen that already feels like his own due to the infinite times he has been there. He empties Seonghwa's water bottle in two mugs, because for some reason Wooyoung will never understand, Seonghwa doesn't own normal glasses. 

He drinks his own as fast as the shots he did less than an hour ago, cold water defogging his mind at the same time it soothes his aching throat. In front of him, San takes a shy sip, eyes not leaving Wooyoung's face.

"What?" 

San ducks his head low. 

"You look pretty tonight."

"I look pretty every night," Wooyoung opens the tap, filling his mug with water and emptying in a second.

"That's right," San admits with a lopsided smile, taking another small sip before he is tending his mug to Wooyoung. "Drink it. You need it more than me."

Wooyoung accepts it, drinking it in one go. Dropping both mugs in the sink, he reaches out a hand for San in the air.

"Taking care of me?" He asks after the final sigh of satisfaction, vision getting clearer. San looks painfully gorgeous in front of him. 

"Just for tonight," San says, loyal to his words.

Wooyoung loves that. San has always been a rebel, not pliant to follow any rule, tinier that it could be. They used to fight a lot thanks to that, because of the most stupid things. Because San refused to listen to him. 

The way San listens to him right now just drives Wooyoung crazy. Fingers curling around San's wrist, catching the frantic heartbeats under his fingertips, Wooyoung guides him to the room. 

Seonghwa's room is basically Wooyoung's by now. Even in the dark he moves without difficulties, easily avoiding the big desk he hit his balls with the first time he was there and pushing San on the bed. He squats down the nightstand, pulling the condoms and the lube out. 

San's eyes are glowing in the dark, carefully following every movement. With a tug of the collar, Wooyoung is getting rid of his shirt. He sits on San's lap, arms twining around his neck, breathing all over his face.

"Why are you getting soft?" Wooyoung groans, feeling San's shy boner against his fully hard, aching cock.

San visibly gulps, hands hesitating on Wooyoung's waist. Conscious of what's about to happen. 

"I'm–You will regret it in the morning, Woo." 

Wooyoung's heart painfully shrinks inside his chest, sending a cold wave down his spine. It's been nearly ten years since someone called him that. 

"What if I regret it? I'm not regretting it now, whatever comes in the morning will be my fault."

"You will hate me even more."

"I don't hate you," Wooyoung sighs, throwing his head back. San's hands move quick, hosted at the small of his back to keep him from falling. "I don't hate you, okay? I was just– It's just–"

San looks up, eagerly biting down his lip. 

Wooyoung closes his eyes, fireworks blinding him for a brief moment. He is not really in the mood to deal with all of this, that's the job of morning Wooyoung. 

"Listen," he opens his eyes, glaring at San, "if you want to talk about the past, we will talk but not now. Right now I want you to fuck me until I forget everything hurting. Okay?"

He tugs hard on San's shoulders, not daring to say _please_ but totally screaming it with his eyes. The room is soon spinning, Wooyoung's back meeting the mattress. San lays on top of him, spreading his legs apart to make some room for his body to fit in between. Wooyoung's tongue meets his lower lip, hips yanking forward in search of friction. 

San is raising his pinky in front of him.

"What?" Wooyoung frowns. 

"We will talk," San says, waving his hand in front of Wooyoung's eyes. Dead serious, voice lacking that seriousness, breaking a little. "Promise me."

Wooyoung clicks his tongue, linking their pinkies fast and hard. San is the one moving their hands together until their thumbs are bumping, genuine smile lighting up his face. 

"Exorcists don't break promises," San mumbles, voice filling with so much happiness for a moment Wooyoung forgets about the rest of the world and he is coming homeward bound.

He _can't_ break that promise now. 

San is kissing him the next second, all the memories dusting away with the burn of San's tongue invading his mouth. The kiss turns open-mouthed and messy, tongues curling around each other so good it finally sends alarms to Wooyoung's mind. 

_'When did San become such a great kisser?'_

"You sure this is okay?" San breathes, tongue training a way over Wooyoung's upper lip. 

"I'm sure. I want this. Don't you?"

Wooyoung doesn't know why he is asking it. Maybe because tonight it's San and not some nameless dude that doesn't waste time with words and goes straight to the point. It's San and all the stories they've shared together. 

It's San. _Fuck._

San took his virginity. As mad as he can be, he can't ignore the fact San carries a part of Wooyoung within his heart. And that having sex with San will never be fast and messy and hurried. It will never make him _forget_ , because San still smells like home. Like _family._

"I do. I want to make sure you are comfortable."

San is so _fucking sweet._

And Wooyoung has been dreaming of it. Wooyoung wants the sweet sex back, even if he knows it will only make his scars bleed. Just for the night, he wants to pretend everything is fine. 

That nothing hurts anymore. All the broken pieces inside his body are coming back together. The sharp glass piercing his heart becomes soft sugar. And looking into San's eyes, he doesn't find resentment. He finds the warm sunshine he madly fell for at fourteen. 

"I am comfortable, Sannie."

With San it's always comfortable. San took his hand and taught him to walk through chaos with a dimple smile. 

Wooyoung _loves_ San.

The only problem is that, when he needed San to hold his hand the most, San didn't. 

Wooyoung can't succumb to the sweet sex, because everything will hurt again. 

﹢

Wooyoung's head is still spinning, jumping from memory to memory until he decides to brush it away and focus on the San kneeling in front of him. Real San. Maybe create some new memories he is sure will haunt him in the morning. 

But not now. Right now they are good memories, the type of memories drunk Wooyoung holds onto tight close to his heart. 

"Your thighs are so big," San whispers in awe, fingers yanking from Wooyoung's pants, getting hitched in the way, painfully digging in his skin. 

Wooyoung scowls, rising on his elbows, kicking his legs a little with care so he doesn't end up knocking San's stomach. 

"So what?" He groans. "Are you into skinny legs now or what?"

"I meant it as a compliment," San sighs, rough fingers tugging harder from the fabric, somehow tender over his skin. Wooyoung falls in silence, regretting putting on those stupid tight jeans in the first place, soon forgetting about it because his hard cock is finally being freed from the tight fabric, proudly tenting his underwear. A little whimper manages to slide through his gritted teeth, the head of his cock rubbing against the already wet fabric. He was hard before finding San, the phantom of Yunho's lips brushing against his ear being the responsible for his dick embarrassingly dripping like that. 

He falls back on the mattress, letting San take off his shoes to slide the pants off. Wooyoung's hands press flat on the mattress, at each side of his body. He is aching, but he patiently waits for San to stupidly fold his pants before placing them on the floor.

Normally, he wouldn't have cared about his pants wrinkled at his ankles, hand already working himself in the way he likes, too desperate to put his mind on a rest after a long day to wait a single second more. With San flooding his mind, he doesn't feel that desperate. He can wait. He can enjoy a night that lasts longer than ten minutes. 

_No._

He kind of wants for the night to last forever because that way he won't be facing the harrowing morning any soon. He will be able to hang with the good side of San for good.

Wooyoung _waits._

Closing his eyes, Wooyoung takes a hand to his chest, trying to steady his own breathing. Enjoying the way San's lips glue to the inner side of his thigh. Kissing softly at first, nibbling on the skin then. Wooyoung opens his eyes to catch San's gaze through fluttering lashes, teeth still nipping his fiery skin. 

"I do love your thighs," San admits.

"Cool."

"How do you want it?" San rises up using his hands, flat against each side of Wooyoung's body, faces falling at the same height. His fingers interlace with Wooyoung's, such an endearing gesture that has Wooyoung becoming half the person he was in the morning.

Wooyoung looks down at San's lips to distract himself from such an act of intimacy. 

He fails. Because it's the first time someone asks him that question. Or, _worse_ , it's the first time Wooyoung allows it. Either way, it feels nice. And the rough fucking starts blurring into sweet love. 

Wooyoung _wants_ to be sucked off by that blur, but he really _can't_.

"Finger me, then fuck me against the wall," he says, as confident as he can. 

San raises a single brow.

"Having this pretty nice bed you want it against the wall?"

"Got a problem with that?"

Sex against walls isn't sweet and it can't hurt. 

"No," San shrugs. "I was hoping to look into your eyes, though."

Wooyoung's throat clenches around dryness, averting his gaze. 

"I might be comfortable, but don't forget we are just fucking. No hard feelings."

Wooyoung is totally saying that to himself, too tempted to jump in the warm pool of feelings laying at his feet and try to rewrite his life. 

"I know," San's lips curve in a tender smile, moving back to pull from Wooyoung's underwear. Wooyoung's expression shifts, pained, leaking cock standing hard against his stomach with a lewd _plop_. "Do you want me to suck you off?"

"No," Wooyoung shakes his head into haste, aware of the way his dick pulsates alone with the thought of San's pretty mouth engulfing him, sending him to heaven with just his timid tongue but sweltering mouth. "I wanna last a little more." 

"Woo, you know everyone in town talks about you, right?" Wooyoung glares, brain refusing to work on something that isn't San's soft pink hair and gorgeous pouty lips to get the meaning behind that question. "I know you have a very short refractory period. You can come four times in a row, don't you?"

San genuinely asks, curious. Wooyoung clenches his jaw. It's right. 

"Whatever. I don't want to come just because of your mouth."

"You're so hard," San points, worrywart. "I need to prep you first, if you hold it you will end up cumming one second after putting my dick in."

"I don't see the problem. You said it, I have a short refractory period. I'll get hard again."

"Sure?"

"San, you will kill my erection with all this ridiculous talk."

Wooyoung is scared once his erection leaves them alone, he will start weeping. He feels it fighting somewhere deep down his chest; the urge of pouring all the tears he has been holding on since San came around three years ago.

After six years without seeing each other, San sketched in front of him like a mirage. _Come back home with me,_ he said. Wooyoung remembers biting his tongue. 

Wooyoung didn't cry then because the shock of seeing San spreaded like layers. Rage, resentment, annoyance. Everything bad was piled first, thin, huddled layers smelling like sulfur. Beneath that, big, thick, well separated layers of nostalgia, and love, and tears.

Maybe Wooyoung is getting past the thin layers just now. Maybe is the alcohol messing with his head. 

He looks back at San, realizing he's been engrossed with his thoughts. Still hard, thankfully. 

"We don't need all the talk. I'm used," Wooyoung shrugs. 

"The key of good sex is communication. I won't do anything you don't want, that's why I am asking. I wanna know what makes you feel good." 

San's voice flows calmly. He looks way too relaxed compared to Wooyoung's frantic heartbeats and restless hips, moving up without him noticing it. For San, this is totally normal. He is not having one way conversations with himself. He is not embarrassed, sweetly trying to make Wooyoung feel as good as he can. And that just adds more regret on the back of his head.

San always wanted the best for him. His love, it was genuine. Deep down, Wooyoung knows San never wanted for things to end the way they did. 

It's hilarious. _The key of good sex is communication,_ San just said, even when the root of their problem is the lack of communication. 

They never talked. Wooyoung was not in the right state of mind that night, and the only word coming out of San's mouth was: _stay._ Wooyoung remembers how badly it burned him, how selfish he thought San was acting. But it's been a long way from sixteen, and right now, in the middle of some drunken stupor, Wooyoung is having an epiphany. 

He doesn't know the reason behind San's selfishness. He never asked. 

But he is tired of all that thinking. 

"I don't know," Wooyoung falls back on the bed, defeated and exhausted. "I don't know what I like."

San's confused frown is tangible in the damp atmosphere. 

"Woo, I know you're sexually active. Don't need to hide it from me–"

"I don't know, okay?" Wooyoung cuts, glaring at him. "I just–Finger me, I'll tell you if it's not good. Okay?"

Wooyoung's been having sex to shut his mind, because the only demons he can't kill are the ones within himself. Nothing more. Wooyoung loves the sex, that's true. He enjoys it, whether is the spicy library sex or the suffocating club sex. He enjoys it because his head empties. He can rest.

He doesn't know what makes him feel good. It's the quietness of his mind what makes him cum every time. 

Right now, it feels terribly different. Head so loud, yet still hard against his stomach. 

In front of him, San nods without adding to his confession. His face is barely illuminated under the subdued light coming from the street.

Wooyoung plops back, barely catching the soft _okay_ leaving San's lips, every sound around him numbing his senses. His brain turns into a static TV screen, staring into the ceiling, until San is bringing him back again. One cold finger circling on his rim.

San is the one making him so loud inside. 

Wooyoung shifts into a more comfortable position, resting over his forearms as San's finger sheepishly makes its way inside. Wooyoung's hole clenches around it just good, totally made for him. 

"Good?" San's eyes are pooling with concern. 

"Good. You can add another, I'm not that tight."

"I beg to differ," San blows, cold air tickling Wooyoung's skin. He moves his finger in and out, slowly, swivelling it a little in the way. "You are extremely tight. It's nice."

San's chest swells with a mouthful of air, swallowing as he works him open. Eyes moving from Wooyoung's ass to his eyes, stealing glances when he thinks Wooyoung's not looking. But he is always looking. 

"I know my body," Wooyoung clicks his tongue. "Just add it." 

He swears he catches San rolling his eyes this time, dick twitching against his stomach, claiming some attention. Wooyoung _waits._

San obeys, though, pouring more lube into his fingers before pressing another one against Wooyoung's entrance. Wooyoung's thighs twitch with the intrusion, but San is fast placing a hand over his skin. Stroking him, tenderly brushing the stiffness away. His fingers pick something that resembles a steady pace, moving so slow Wooyoung swears he is teasing him. 

"Good?" San voices his concern again.

Wooyoung shakes his head fast. "Good."

 _Fucking amazing_ , he would add. 

Two fingers soon become three, San's free hand stroking his thigh, fingers perfectly aimed to draw moans out of every breath Wooyoung takes. The quietness of the night breaks with nothing but shaky moans and the slippery sound of San's fingers moving fast. 

Wooyoung arches his back when the shudders of pleasure pierce his skin from the inside, San's fingertips brushing his prostate for an instant, soon missing it. San's lips burn on his stomach the next second, hair tickling his sensitive cock.

"You sound pretty," San mumbles, hot breath against hotter skin, all the blood of Wooyoung's body pooling in the same spot, like thousands of carp fishes flowing together, longing for San. "So pretty, Woo."

Wooyoung knows. He knows how pretty he sounds, and how good he is. He is used to all the compliments, and he is sure San's fingers are the smallest he has ever had inside. It shouldn't feel this good. It shouldn't set his skin on fire. Because he is used. 

San exhales, Wooyoung's skin sizzling. His tongue falls on the side of his cock, lapping up his length without a warning, sending shudders down his entire body. His toes curl and the air hitches in his chest. Wooyoung's hand flies to the base of his cock, wrapping hard around it.

"You're so hard," San says, using a pitying voice. "It must hurt so bad."

"I'm totally fine," he pants, saliva painfully sticking to his dry throat. "Fuck me. Now."

This time, San doesn't ask if he is sure. He takes his fingers out, sliding so smoothly his hole is clenching around emptiness before he can even notice. San's hands fall on Wooyoung's thighs, stroking them, butterfly kisses pampering his skin.

"San," Wooyoung demands, voice twisting around desperation. 

San sucks hard into his skin, Wooyoung's fingers having a hard time. Burning in desires to move all over the length of his neglected dick, work himself so good and let it out. But he can't. He wants to wait.

"If you don't take off your pants in three seconds, I'll be kicking you out," Wooyoung grits and San smirks. 

"Okay," he moves back, fingers not shaking at all when he unzips his jeans. 

Wooyoung is standing on trembling knees, brushing them against the sheets until he is resting his entire body on the wall. Taking a deep breath, trying to neatly display his ideas. Everything is a mess. Dick violently pounding in his hand, eyes closed because he doesn't want to look at San's naked body and cum with just the sight. He is stronger than that. _Everything is a mess_. And he is about to fracture with the weight of it. 

He does hear the way San hums under his breath, rips the condom and slides it easily behind his back. The bottle of lube is gurgling again in the middle of rugged breathing, San's lips falling on Wooyoung's shoulder the next second. Wooyoung fidgets, containing the air inside his lungs. San's fingers make a home on his hips, gripping, cock rubbing against the line of his ass.

Wooyoung's entire body is screaming in anticipation, as if he hadn't taken a dick before in his life. Feeling totally new and fresh. Kind of nice, he would even say, if it wasn't for all the feelings creeping at his neck.

"I'm putting it in. Tell me if it hurts," San says, nuzzling his neck.

Wooyoung nods, finally letting go of his dick to press both hands against the wall. Shaking. He is sure his arms won't support him. But he doesn't care. San presses the tip of his dick against his rim, teasingly rubbing it before sliding it in. Wooyoung takes him so well, so deep with just one trust, he is losing his balance and crashing against the wall. He whimpers in pain, spreading from his forehead, reaching San. He clenches around his dick.

"Fuck, Woo. Are you okay?"

"It's nothing," he brushes away, moving his hips back, sinking deeper. "Move, please."

This time, San glues one of his hands to Wooyoung's forehead, so when he is being shoved against the wall again, he only meets warm and soft fingers. 

Wooyoung's drunk and nostalgic heart would have melted with the tender gesture if it wasn't for the delicious burn San's dick leaves behind when he snaps his hips, skin meeting skin, sinking so deep Wooyoung sees the fucking stars covering Namhae's night sky. 

His lips part alone, fingers helplessly closing against the wall, hoping to find something to hold onto. He can't think straight, forehead rubbing against San's fingers, bodies pacing together. He barely listens to what San is mumbling against his skin, dazed, coming untouched with just a few thrusts.

Hard. The most intense he has ever felt in his life. In his long life of one night stands and rough sex against dirty walls. He never came as hard and painful as he does right now, white stripes shamelessly decorating Seonghwa's bedroom wall.

Morning Wooyoung will have to deal with that as well.

"Fuck," San nibbles around his earlobe. "Should we stop–"

"No, we're not finished," Wooyoung's voice comes out raspy, piercing his heart in the way.

He doesn't quite realize the double meaning those words hold, body becoming clay and letting San mold him whatever shape he wants. One hand gripping at his hip, keeping him in place, San starts moving again. Slowly, angling him the right way, almost like he is certain of the exact spot he needs to hit to send Wooyoung to heaven in a heartbeat. 

"You're so good, Woo. You feel so fucking good it's making me insane," San throws over his skin. "I've missed you."

Wooyoung's reply is a choked-out sob, getting hard once again. 

"Say that again," he sounds wrecked, consumed by the pleasure flooding his body from the inside. 

"I've missed you."

"No, my name."

San's shaky breath splatters on his nape, slowing down to brush his lips against the shell of his ear.

"Woo."

San is soon cursing at the way Wooyoung's body unpromptedly contracts around him. Wooyoung takes a hand to his half hard dick, pumping fast, matching the snaps of San's hips until they're coming at the same time. Wooyoung tries to keep it in the cup of his hand, shivering with how thin his skin feels right now. It allows him to feel San spilling in the condom before crashing on his back.

Rugged breathings pacing together for a minute before San is pulling out and Wooyoung is falling onto the bed. A mess outside and inside, fingers flying to his forehead. He is able to catch San's warmth glued there, as well with the sweet jasmine scent following the Choi family around.

Wooyoung feels like crying, and it might be the first time he cries out of sadness instead of the all-consuming pleasure. Maybe a mix of both, but mostly because of how empty he feels right now. He should have known better. The void San always leaves behind would just widen with any sort of intimacy, even if it wasn't sweet.

Wooyoung regrets getting drunk, but at the same time he regrets not being drunk enough to fall asleep right away, waking up believing it was some hangover induced dream. 

He also regrets thinking a little more hurt wouldn't kill him. 

"Wooyoung," San uses his full name now, almost like he wants to make it clear that they're nothing but the ghosts of what they used to be. It makes Wooyoung's lips tremble, one arm quickly moving to cover his burning eyes. He shouldn't be the one getting emotional. "Are you good?"

"No."

There's silence following Wooyoung's mumble. Then, the sheets are making music underneath San's body. 

"Can I kiss you before leaving?" 

Wooyoung nods. Because he is drunk, and sad, and fucked out. And _, God_ , he is still hung over San. 

San's fingers move with care, softly pulling his arm away. Wooyoung closes his eyes, waiting for the kiss that never arrives. San's lips brush his pained forehead instead. Wooyoung's stomach turns to stone, sinking him deeper. 

"You shouldn't hurt alone," San says.

And then, he is leaving. Sobs are cracking Wooyoung's chest from the inside, because while trying the hardest to not succumb to the sweet sex he missed a hole and fell for San. 

And he doesn't want San to leave him again.

Because San is the only family Wooyoung has left. 

﹢

**Maria Kangrey:** yuyu you love me right?

 **Yunho:** I do ❤

 **Yunho:** thank u for the apartment 

**Yunho:** and sorry for ditching you

 **Yunho:** again i mean 

**Yunho:** im so sorry

 **Yunho:** i will bake you all the cookies u ask for the rest of the year 

**Maria Kangrey:** ok ok ok 

**Maria Kangrey:** love you tons too!!

 **Maria Kangrey:** and bc we love eo u wouldn't lie to me right?

 **Yunho:**...no?

 **Maria Kangrey:** great!! so tell me

 **Maria Kangrey:** you fucked woo last night?

Yunho regrets sending the heart emoji.

He puts his phone down slowly. Or that's how it's supposed to go, abruptly letting it fall and crash against the white tiles of his bathroom floor instead. He catches his own startled eyes in the mirror, the echo of a tired sigh already swinging his way.

Yunho lets out a sigh when he realizes the unpleasant sound that came with the fall of his phone. He is not in the right economic condition to break his phone now. Dropping to the floor, he nervously takes a seat there, gluing his back to the wall and taking a thumb to his lips. 

Yeosang just sent a lot of interrogation marks.

**Yunho:** what

 **Yunho:** I got a tummy ache so I went home

Yunho immediately bites his tongue, not fast enough to save him from writing _tummy ache_ like he is nothing but a kid. 

**Maria Kangrey:** wow u get cuter everyday

 **Maria Kangrey:** my heart is melting 

**Maria Kangrey:** so u didn't fuck the brains off woo???

 **Yunho:** NO

 **Yunho:** I would love for u to stop with this

 **Yunho:** Wooyoung and I are just friends

Yunho silently mourns with his own statement, meeting his gloomy pout through the screen of his phone. 

_'It would be better if you weren't friends at all. You know, he gives me hives_ , _'_ his demon shakes with a shiver for a reason, making Yunho's toes curl in discomfort, feeling cold and wet inside. 

"You don't even have a body to feel the hives," Yunho hisses back, not minding at all sounding insane while talking to himself because he is totally alone. He should start changing that, though. It would be a nuisance having to explain to Wooyoung he is not crazy without mentioning the demon inside if the boy finds him talking to himself once they are settled down in their soon to be shared apartment.

_'It's a feeling. I don't know why, but I'm sure he is dangerous.'_

"Because he is human," Yunho rolls his eyes and he uncomfortably feels the way his demon nods in silence. 

**Maria Kangrey:** hmmmmm weird

 **Yunho:** I swear! we are just friends

 **Maria Kangrey:** no, I mean

 **Maria Kangrey:** yesterday woo asked for my apartment to S L E E P but hwa knows him too well and he was totally going to F U C K and we thought it was with Y O U

 **Maria Kangrey:** so of course hwa gave him his keys and we came in ten min ago to surprise you two but woo was alone and pretty fucked 

**Maria Kangrey:** also everything is a mess there's cum on the walls

 **Yunho:** Yeosang. I'm going to work. I don't have time for this.

Yunho drops his head back this time, pain spreading to his toes as he miscalculates the distance between the wall and his head. Wooyoung was already gone when he came out of the bathroom and Yunho didn't give it enough importance. 

He was glad to have his motherfucking rest.

However, finding out Wooyoung left with someone just makes his stomach curl around the same jealousy that attacked him while Wooyoung did his makeup last night. The unbidden jealousy he shouldn't be feeling because it's pointless to dream of Wooyoung choosing him and only him when Yunho can't even look at his face without feeling warm all over his body. Tragically, not in an innocent crush way but real fire cracking beneath his skin way. 

_'Maybe you're developing a crush, too. You seem the type to attach real fast,'_ his demon laughs. 

"I don't have a crush," Yunho bites around his words, frowning at his phone, still going over Yeosang's messages. "Maybe my dick has a crush."

Not maybe, he is sure it must be that. Wooyoung is hot, Wooyoung fucks well, Wooyoung is a tease. And Yunho couldn't really enjoy puberty because he was awkwardly popping boners and fire at the same time.

But he got through it. He is strong.

"I've been able to survive nine years without sex. I can make it through this."

_'And I am able to fly.'_

Yunho tilts his head, curiosity pulling him from his determination. 

"Wait. Are we able to fly?"

_'No, I thought we were sharing unrealistic facts about ourselves.'_

"You are a dick," Yunho barks, rising to his feet. His eyes glimmer differently when he catches them in the mirror, white dazzling over his brow eyes.

_'And you need one.'_

The white dazzle of derision, Yunho thinks. 

Shaking his head, he opens the tap and splashes cool water on his face. Fingers pressing his eyes until everything he sees is white and brushing Wooyoung's image off his brain. 

Who cares about Wooyoung making a cum mess in one of his fuck buddies room with a random dude? Not Yunho. Yunho only worries about being late to work, and also making time to appoint a meeting with the landlord to save himself a room. 

His demon reminds him Wooyoung is supposed to be one of his roommates, but Yunho silences him. Today will be a Wooyoung free day. 

Yunho makes it to the bookstore a little bit late because the landlord happens to be a very talkative man, pulling him into a sweet conversation he wasn't able to cut for half an hour. Heavy breathing, fingers tightened around the handle of his back.

Face dropping when he catches the hue of pink waiting for him inside.

Yunho regrets not adding an exorcist free day to the list, San cutely swinging his feet with his nose buried deep down a book about astrology when Yunho makes his way inside. He is sitting on the counter, not really giving Yunho the chance to ignore his existence. It's kinda exhausting, the way San untimely appears every time Yunho is going through some Wooyoung problems, adding more to the list with his russet cheeks and spellbinding eyes. 

_'Avoid his fucking eyes this time,'_ his demon warns.

And Yunho tries. He gets on his demon's side for the first time in a week and tries hard to not look into San's eyes. Five seconds later he is already lost in soft brown and sparkles.

_'You have to be kidding me.'_

Whatever. 

"Hi," San's fond smile makes its way through his pink lips. He puts the book down on his lap, eyes casting Yunho once again. Easy. Yunho doesn't have time to taste his own weakness because San's eyes are beautiful. Clear, filled with good things only. "You are late."

Yunho swells his chest with air, keeping it inside for as long as he scrutinises San's face. Still as beaming as he remembers, soft pink hair covering his forehead in perfect curls, slightly giving off a vanilla scent. His magical eyes twist with honey, beautiful, even when they carry a heavy tiredness. The bags under them get noticeable then. Yunho swears he falls out of the spell for a second, worry biting the tip of his tongue. 

"You look tired."

"Oh, don't worry, I couldn't catch enough sleep last night. But I'm totally fine," San raises a hand, gesturing in the air. That only makes Yunho widen his eyes with concern, fast falling in the redness bruising San's knuckles. 

That doesn't look fine.

"What happened to your hand?" Yunho's unable to control his instincts, gloved fingers moving to hold San's tiny hand and observe the bruise carefully. It's not a deep wound, but it's a little bit scratched. Red and peeling. "Did you punch a wall?"

Looking back into his face, Yunho meets the fear twisting on San's honey eyes, and he feels in his body: how the cast becomes dust. His demon curls far from San, but still shares a concern with Yunho. 

San is observing his hand with parted lips, eyes wide open, almost like he is realizing it just now. Yunho uses one hand to cover his knuckles, worried he starts freaking out if he spends one more second looking at his bruised skin. 

"I'm–" San blows air, suddenly looking at the verge of tears. Yunho's concern grows bigger. "I have redness prone skin. It's nothing." 

Of course it's something, Yunho's not an idiot.

"What happened?"

San shakes his head, taking his hand to his chest.

"Nothing," he deliberately lies. "I bet I slept on top of my hand. That's all."

San might be very good at casting spells with just a blink, but he _sucks_ at lying. Both with his voice—uneven—and his actions—soon getting lost on his own tiny, bruised hand. He looks at it with a mix of sadness and regret glimmering his eyes. 

"Let me take care of it," Yunho sighs, remembering there's a small first aid kit somewhere in Mister Kang's office.

"Yunho-yah," San totally breathes his name, closing his hand in a fist, secured on his chest. "I am okay. You don't need to make a fuss out of this." 

"It must sting." Yunho drops his bag behind the counter, half its content spilling on the floor. He doesn't bother picking it, making his way to the office and bringing the first aid kit with him after three minutes. He decides he won't get picky, because he doesn't need his demon to tell him that San surely hurt himself doing his job. His exorcist job. The chasing demons job. And he doesn't want to go there, but he has always been weak when it comes to wounded people. His mother always taught him to heal, not to cause damage. Maybe it is rooted so deep in his mind he can't help it anymore. Exorcist or not, he only cares about shooting the pain.

San is squatted on the floor when he comes back, endearingly putting all the things back into his bag. Fingers curled around the crumpled up paper Yeosang gave him last night. It goes unnoticed. 

"Take a seat," Yunho moves the chair back. San pulls the paper in as well, obeying in silence. His lips are curled in a tender smile when he faces Yunho, eyes chirping with magic again. Yunho looks down, not falling for it twice in the same day. 

"This is useless. I am not really hurt," San sighs. 

Yunho silences him, kneeling in front of him and holding his hand up. His thumb moves over his knuckles, the skin bristling under his touch. 

"Your skin is peeling off," he mumbles. "I don't care what happened, but don't pretend you are not hurt."

"I'm not hurt," San breathes, fingers shaking a little. "I mean, it doesn't hurt. I didn't even realize it until you pointed it out."

"It will hurt later."

Yunho lets go, opening the kit and searching for something that can soothe the bruised skin. He picks up a hand cream, not thinking at all when he takes one hand to his mouth and takes off one of his gloves. His mind is calm for the first time in weeks.

"Wow," San breathes when the cream covers his skin, but he is not reacting to the coldness at all. "You have pretty hands."

"Thanks."

"Why hide them with the gloves?"

"I'm not good at regulating heat. My hands get cold easily," he lies effortlessly, surprising himself of how relaxed he is right now. His fingers move slowly and tenderly, feeling a little bit sad inside with the thought of someone as soft as San getting hurt. Maybe he was sucked in the spell after all, because the creeping desire of protecting San soaks him warmly. He doesn't care. "Hydrate your hands when you're back home," Yunho adds once he is done. "It's superficial, but you do have pretty hands, too. You don't want it to get worse."

San stares at him, eyes changing a little. Then he stares down at his hand, heavily sighing. He clenches and unclenches his hand, knuckles turning white under the glossy cream.

"Thank you. I'll try to be more careful… _Next time_ ," he huffs the last part, but Yunho decides he doesn't want to know.

Whatever happened, that's San's war. They are mortal enemies, after all. Yunho shouldn't be getting this comfortable around someone that has the power of deciding the fate of his life with just a snap of his fingers despite how adorable that someone is.

Yunho stands up, cleans his hand on his jeans and sheaths on the glove again. His heart starts kicking in once he is left with no wound to heal, pounding loudly on his ears. San is already making his way to the other side of the counter, picking something from the floor Yunho didn't notice before. 

A white paper bag.

"I came to give you this," San says, smiling but not quite reaching his eyes. "It was supposed to be a _thank you for being my friend_ gift, but you never called." Yunho's stomach sinks with guilt. "Now it can be a _thank you for making me feel better_ gift."

San places the bag on the table. Yunho gingerly looks inside, stupidly fearing—his demon is—the bag hides some type of seal and his life ends just like that. He finds nothing but a crystal jar with a big label covering one of the sides. _Sunflower tea._

"I don't know if you like tea, but I thought it was funny. Because you smell the same," San explains.

Yunho is totally a tea person, touched to the heart to have something like that in his hands. His mother would totally love it.

"Thanks. You didn't have to," Yunho sighs, looking down. "I acted like a dick to you."

"It's okay. I tend to act upfront every time I like someone," San admits, making every single cell of Yunho's body tingle. "I like you, Yunho. I really want us to be friends."

Yunho's fingers grip around the jar, nails slowly scratching the glass. Guilt is eating him alive from the inside, but it's not like he can forget everything and happily accept being friends with an exorcist. 

Demons and exorcists are like water and oil. 

"San," he starts, eyes on the glass, "you are really nice, and I bet we could've been really good friends. In another life, maybe. But you know what I am. I know about you, too. I know about the spell, and I know you are hiding your true self behind softness. I don't know what you are trying to get from this but, please, you need to understand we can't be friends."

In front of him, San doesn't move. His expression changes, smile wiped off his lips, eyes going from soft sun touched liquid honey to dry, dark honey. Yunho doesn't catch it, still focused on the way his nails scratch against the soft glass.

"Is he talking to you?" San asks, voice low. "Your demon. He was the one telling you, right?"

Yunho shivers, even when he was the one starting it. Glancing up, San doesn't look as fragile as before.

"You two are like two pieces of a puzzle," San is getting close, one hand flat against the counter, leaning towards him. Yunho shrinks more, unable to stop looking into his uncanny eyes. "Yet, you don't fit well. The edges are uneven. It's not part of you. You feel like sharing your body with a stranger, am I right?"

San sweeps his free hand, resting his cold fingers under Yunho's chin, tenderly forcing him to keep the look. For a second, Yunho's entire body turns to stone, but he is soon realizing the dark gaze is not aimed at him. His demon stumbles until he is feeling closer than ever, moved by an invisible force curled around his body, forced to look into San's eyes as well. 

"My deal's not with you, Yunho-yah. You are human, I can smell that as well. You don't need to be scared, I promise I won't be touching your human part."

His demon hisses, trying to move back, and Yunho guesses San is able to feel it. He tilts his head, smiling tenderly one second later. His eyes turn liquid again, the hand under Yunho's chin moving to pinch one of his cheeks. 

"I really want to be friends with you," he says. "Think about it, okay? You have my phone number. Call me whenever you feel like getting rid of the trash, I'm quite good at doing my job."

Yunho remains quiet, petrified, heartbeats threatening to rip a hole through bone and muscle. He is unable to escape that daze, not even after San abandons the store and all the danger dispels.

But not inside.

Inside, his demon is choking up a little, sending warning images. San is dangerous. They must avoid San. 

San will kill them both. 

"No," Yunho breathes after so long, a weird tickling on his chest. He feels invaded with a warm wave of happiness. "He will kill _you._ "

﹢

Yunho's morning is left filled with lots of curses spilled on his brain, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care at all because there's high chances he will finally, _finally_ get rid of his demon. Not with a weak seal that's not big enough to cover his mouth and contain all his power. Directly making him disappear. San saw through him, saw the two pieces composing his life. San will aim for the demon and then Yunho will be able to live a normal life.

Fucking finally. 

He smiles so stupidly for the rest of the day Mingi has to stop on their way to pick the keys of the new apartment to press both hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him down. 

"You got birthday sex, right?" He asks, squinting. "You're never this happy and your skin is dazzling. We are friends, you need to share the juice." 

Way better than that. Yunho might be even able to have safe sex now. He might even… He shakes his head as soon as Wooyoung's pierced tongue is licking inside of his brain. He is so excited he feels the fire chirping on his fingertips. 

"I'm just happy. Life is beautiful, Mingi-ah," Yunho floats around. He is pretty sure the excitement will fade at some point, but right now he allows that small pool of mirth to soak his feet in good things. 

Once he has the keys of his new apartment cradled on his hand, Yunho can't help but think his streak of bad luck is finally over. Turning twenty-five, he is starting from scratch. He is about to be reborn.

Only good things are coming. 

**Yunho:** can u send me Wooyoung's phone number?

 **Maria Kangrey:** why?

 **Yunho:** I just met with the landlord 

**Yunho:** apparently someone called in the morning asking for a room so its all covered

 **Yunho:** we can move in tomorrow 

**Yunho:** I wanna tell him

 **Yunho:** well I just told u… u can tell him

 **Maria Kangrey:** nah

 **Maria Kangrey:** u tell him ;) 

Yunho purses his lips in a tight line, but he is too happy to care. Wooyoung's contact information shines in front of him.

**Yunho:** hey, this is yunho

 **Yunho:** I hope you weren't joking around when u said u needed a room bc its all settled now

 **Yunho:** I have your apartment keys 

**Yunho:** I'll be moving in tomorrow afternoon, you can meet me there

For a second, Yunho waits for a fast reply. Silence flows back to him for the next ten minutes, so he decides to put his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and invite Mingi to some celebration cookie baking. 

﹢

Wooyoung's reply comes late at night. Yunho is already half asleep, drooling on his pillowcase when his phone starts buzzing. Yunho fidgets underneath the comforter, startled with the incessant buzzing against wood that doesn't belong to a single message. 

Wooyoung's name illuminates his screen in the shape of a call. A midnight call.

Yunho picks up, licking his lower lip, rubbing the drowsiness away with one finger. 

"Yeah?"

"Yunho," Wooyoung breathes low at the other side of the line. "Are you home?"

"Yeah."

"Can I go?"

"What?" Yunho sits down in bed, suddenly wide awake. "Where?"

"Your flat. I need–I need–" Wooyoung doubts, breathing harshly. "I need a place to spend the night. I saw your message–Can I?"

"I'm still at my old flat," Yunho bites down his lower lip, eyes adjusting to the dark.

"I don't care. Please. I'm just– I need someone–"

"Wooyoung, is everything okay?"

The worry starts creeping at Yunho's neck for a reason, swiftly rising to his feet, starting to pace next to his bed. He nibbles his nails, Wooyoung's heavy breathing being the only thing he gets from the other side for the next two minutes.

"I'm tired. Please."

Wooyoung's voice breaks, and it also cracks Yunho's defenses. He is already moving to the principal door in nothing but his pajamas.

"Okay. I'll send you the location. Where are you?"

Wooyoung stops, Yunho getting the soft murmur of gravel crushing under his feet. He is outside. 

"The slums."

Yunho's blood congeals, hand paralysed around the door knob. He is not proud of the way his voice breaks when he speaks. 

"What are you doing there?"

"I was– I don't remember."

"Are you drunk?"

Wooyoung hums.

"Yunho, I'm tired." 

"Okay," Yunho inhales, his free hand pulling from his own hair. Wooyoung is definitely drunk. Or worse. And his voice is screaming for help this time, nothing like the sheer desire from the night of his birthday. "Tell me what you see. I'll find you."

_I'll try._

"Hmm."

Yunho forgets to put on his shoes, throwing his body into the coldness of the night with nothing but pink socks. 

Following Wooyoung's vague indications, Yunho manages to find him after ten minutes running at full speed between alleys and crooked old buildings. Wooyoung is still wearing the same clothes he was wearing last night, smashed makeup leaving a havoc on his face. With his phone still glued to his ear, Wooyoung tiredly glances at him, eyes dead. Black and devoid from their usual glow. 

Yunho's heart falters when Wooyoung drops on top of him, phone sliding down, crashing on the floor next to them. Yunho's arms move alone, driven by the same unknown force that led him to Wooyoung, wrapping around his waist and holding him close. Keeping him on his feet.

Wooyoung is shaking, skin covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.

"What happened?" Yunho asks, but he is not sure if he is asking himself or Wooyoung, who just hums again, fingers tightly gripping around his shirt. He snuggles closer to Yunho's chest, heavily sighing. "Wooyoung," Yunho whispers this time, accruing all his worry in his heart. Awakening his protective side twice in the same day. "Come on, hop on my back. Can you do that?"

He is not even sure Wooyoung is still there with him, his unsteady breathing being the only answer he gets from him. Yunho's heart moves to his throat, eyes watering. He is scared. 

Yunho moves slowly, glad there's no one out there this late. Fingers firmly twining around Wooyoung's wrists he notices he forgot to put on his gloves; but it's okay, because right now every demon sense is off. He is totally alone with Wooyoung and his worry.

Softly, he moves Wooyoung to his back. One hand around both his wrists, the other under his ass, keeping him from sliding as Wooyoung's legs don't even respond anymore, hanging loose at each side of Yunho's body. 

Yunho's been always obscurely terrified of Wooyoung, however, the fear rocking his chest and skyrocketing his pulse at this moment tastes different. It's not fear _of_ Wooyoung; it's fear _for_ Wooyoung. 

Losing him. Yunho isn't sure why he is so scared. They just got into friendship three days ago. Wooyoung is still clueless about Yunho hating coffee and Yunho is clueless about every single aspect of Wooyoung that's not related to his sex life. For instance, why is he looking so broken. 

Arriving at the apartment, Yunho moves to the bathroom. His entire body is burning, both because of the run and Wooyoung's own skin, blistering underneath his fingers. 

"Wooyoung," Yunho calls again, carefully placing him on the floor, one hand tenderly cupping at the back of his head to avoid repeating his morning mistake. Wooyoung's eyelids flutter but don't fully open. "Hey. Let's take a shower, okay? Are you okay with that?"

Wooyoung parts his lips to cough a little. Yunho notices just now how chapped they are, flying to the kitchen and coming back with an entire water bottle. Wooyoung has moved, cheek pressed against the cold floor.

It breaks Yunho's heart to see him like that. He doesn't understand. It's just a razzle, he tries to convince himself, even when looking into Wooyoung's eyes felt like falling into a dark pit. Empty. Devoid of life.

Kneeling, he lifts him by the head, pressing the glass on his lips. Wooyoung is desperately emptying the whole bottle the next second, soft whimpers leaving his throat. Yunho can't help but brush the skin of his cheek, where the platinum stars are still glued, not looking as beautiful as Yunho remembers. 

Yeosang and Seonghwa were there with him in the morning. Yunho wonders what the hell happened to him. If it would be a good idea to phone Yeosang to come and take care of him.

The idea is dusting away in one second. Wooyoung called him for a reason. They are not that close, Yunho would not get worried like Yeosang and Seonghwa would in the case they were the ones finding him in this condition. That's what Wooyoung must've thought before calling him.

Too bad his demon was right: Yunho gets attached way too fast, and he worries way too much. 

"Thanks," Wooyoung finally says a coherent word, eyes flashing open. He looks around, dazed. "Where–" His ebony eyes pierce Yunho. Lacking life when he says his name in the sweetest voice. "Yunho. You came back. I'm glad."

Yunho gulps, scooping the bottle away.

"Sorry for leaving you. Are you okay?"

"I feel crummy," Wooyoung scrunches his nose, slightly sniffing his own clothes. Yunho's been too busy worrying to catch the pungent musty scent of sweat his clothing—and maybe his skin as well—gives off. 

"Let's get you in the tub," Yunho tries hard to shoot a reassuring smile, shaky hands helping Wooyoung stand to his feet. Wooyoung's legs quiver, soon crashing against Yunho's chest.

"Shit. I'm so tired," he groans, pained.

"It's okay. Don't worry. Let me do it."

Yunho's hands are still shaking when he gently pulls Wooyoung's shirt off. Out of all the scenarios he had in mind, he never thought this would be the actual way he would be undressing Wooyoung in. It hurts. It hurts to see Wooyoung hurting. 

Wooyoung's skin is still covered in stars, burning underneath Yunho's gelid fingers.

"My pants will get stuck," Wooyoung half laughs when Yunho starts unzipping them. "My thighs are big, apparently."

Yunho isn't sure why he is telling him that, but he decides to not let any of his words affect him. It's obvious he is not the one talking, but whatever he took. Alcohol. Drugs. Yunho isn't sure, but it must be something strong enough to make him walk in a haze around the slums. 

"No problem," Yunho inhales, hands on Wooyoung's hips, turning him around. "Hold tight."

"Where?"

"The sink," Yunho moves his hands up, placing Wooyoung's own over the porcelain of his bathroom sink. Once he is secured, he pulls his pants down. Just like Wooyoung said, the fabric gets stuck, but not because of Wooyoung's thighs at all.

His skin is damped with sweat, fabric glued to his bare skin, soon finding Wooyoung is not wearing underwear. Yunho's breathing stagnates somewhere between his lungs and larynx, eyes falling on the dried rivers of lube furrowing the smooth skin between his cheeks, a few hickies blossoming his thighs. 

Closing his eyes, he squats, pulling the pants down. Taking his shoes first, the pants then.

_Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask._

"You are soft," Wooyoung's voice alerts Yunho, fast looking up. The boy turns around, sloppily, Yunho's hands burning over his bare skin. Wooyoung's smile cracks under the weight of whatever he is carrying with him. "You are so soft, Yunho."

Yunho nods, standing again.

"Everything is fine now," Yunho's voice trembles, but Wooyoung barely notices. Shaking his head in a nod, still holding onto the sink.

Yunho prepares the bathtub next. Opening the tap and letting the water flow for a few minutes until it's the right temperature. His hands firmly wrap around Wooyoung's arms, helping him get in without slipping. The boy sighs when the water splatters around, closing his eyes. 

Yunho remains as calm as he can, internally chewing around the amount of possibilities that could've led Wooyoung to this condition, not getting anything clear. His fingers grip way too tight around the shower head as he pours some tepid water onto Wooyoung's sweaty hair. In silence, brushing all the pain away.

It's tangible in the air; the way Wooyoung is hurting. 

Yunho would've never expected it. Wooyoung walks around with his head high, and the only times he is not smiling it's because he is frowning at whatever foolishness Yeosang said. 

Yunho hurts because the only reason someone is able to hide the pain so well, it's because that person isn't hoping for salvation anymore.

When did Wooyoung give up, he wonders. 

"You would choose me, right?" Wooyoung mumbles, pulling Yunho back into Earth. Into his tiny bathroom, filled with steam and the soft melon scent of his own soap. Midnight tasting bitter on his tongue.

Yunho blinks, fingers delicately removing the hair off Wooyoung's face. His eyes are starting to light up a little, which makes Yunho's heart beat better. But there's also a well known puffiness around them closing around Yunho's throat. 

"What do you mean?" He asks, timidly. 

"My family was murdered," Wooyoung admits, so lightly Yunho is not realizing the magnitude of his words until the tears are rolling down Wooyoung's face, in silence. Yunho parts his lips, no sound coming out, arms hanging loose from the edge of the tub. The head of the shower sinks in the soapy water with a loud sound. None of them seem to notice. Wooyoung's eyes are lost in his own fingers, slowly moving under the white bubbles. "If I decide to take revenge on the murderer, you would choose me, right? You would come with me. You wouldn't leave me alone. Right? We are friends. We are supposed to be together… Forever. You promised me. You _can't_ break that promise. You can't–"

Yunho doesn't know what to say. Or maybe he can't find a voice at all inside the hurricane underneath his heart. Shellshocked both by Wooyoung's words and the raw pain dripping from his tongue. But also, because Wooyoung must be still trying to find a way out of the stickiness of his own brain. Yunho is sure he is not asking him personally. Not Yunho. 

But someone that actually did leave him alone. The person breaking a promise. 

The person _hurting_ Wooyoung. 

"I've been trying to hate you," Wooyoung sobs, taking both hands to his face, spilling the tears over his wet fingers. "I want to hate you for leaving me alone. But I can't. I can't stop missing you. And I hate myself instead for that." 

Yunho falls back, sitting on the floor. His heart shrinks, painfully. Sucked by the hurricane. The image of Wooyoung blurs in front of him.

It's a little late when he notices the tears rolling down his face, unable to stop now. 

﹢

Wooyoung's body is still weak when Yunho pulls him out of the tub, drowsy eyes under wet, melon scented bangs. They have matching red eyes, but Wooyoung doesn't notice, and it kind of makes Yunho's heart sink in guilt. 

Covering Wooyoung's shoulders in a warm towel, he is sure Wooyoung spoke without noticing as well. All the words spilled on melon scented water weren't supposed to reach Yunho's ears. 

Yunho was not supposed to learn about Wooyoung's story like that. Under the influence of drugs. And pain. And there's no way he forgets about it now. 

There are a lot of things Yunho wants to ask right now— _What did you consume? And why? What happened last night after the party? Who did you meet? Was the same person that hurt you?_ —but he is certain the only reason Wooyoung called him falls on the fact Yunho isn't supposed to ask questions either. 

Yunho shouldn't worry as much as he does, and for that, he doesn't ask any questions even when the burning skin of Wooyoung's face makes him bite his tongue until the pain is making his head pound.

"You got a fever." Yunho's fingers glue to Wooyoung's cheeks. Wooyoung's eyelids flutter, trying hard to stay awake.

"That's because of the _dust_. I took too much. I shouldn't have but..." Wooyoung sighs, letting his words float around the steamy bathroom. 

Yunho can't help the way his fingers move alone, caressing Wooyoung's cheeks. _It's_ _okay_ , he wants to say. 

The boy lets his face rest on top of Yunho's hands, almost like all the tears he shed cleansed his soul, leaving him with nothing but a heavy weariness. Yunho holds him like his most precious treasure. Keeping him safe. 

"I'll be okay in the morning," Wooyoung adds.

Yunho wants to believe he is telling the truth, inexplicably scared Wooyoung decides to dissolve between his fingers anytime. 

His fingers leave Wooyoung's cheeks, curling around another towel to dry his hair in silence, eating all those questions and silently hoping tomorrow will be, as Wooyoung said, okay. 

Moving into the room, Yunho helps Wooyoung engulf into one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants. Too big for Wooyoung, hanging loose everywhere, but it's okay, because Wooyoung is curling in the middle of the mattress in no time, hands disappearing inside the sleeves. Looking smaller than ever.

"Let's get you inside the blankets," Yunho uses a soft voice, tenderly helping him get inside. Looking down at him, Yunho feels like they both will regret it in the morning. Yunho the most, leaning in to brush his lips on Wooyoung's forehead without thinking first. The sweat is gone, and underneath the melon of his shampoo, Yunho tastes something that makes his stomach twist. "Sleep well. Tomorrow will be better." 

Wooyoung hums, eyes still closed when he takes a hand out of the comforter to cling onto Yunho's shirt.

"Yunho," Wooyoung calls and Yunho's ashamed of how fast his heart reacts to his own name. Hand flying to lay on top of Wooyoung's sweater paw.

"I am here."

"Where are you sleeping?"

"The couch," Yunho mumbles.

"Can you sleep with me tonight?" Wooyoung opens his eyes, searching for him in the dark. It's the first time Yunho doesn't feel in danger. Wooyoung's eyes are tired and speaking for his heart. Right now, Yunho's allowed to stand before the real Wooyoung. The Wooyoung buried deep down the facade he has come up with over the course of years. Real Wooyoung is a little bit broken. "I know I've caused you enough problems for the night, but…"

He doesn't finish his sentence, letting it float around the quiet room.

"I don't feel like pretending tonight. Just tonight I need… I need someone to take care of me for real. I'll be gone in the morning, I promise."

Yunho doesn't want him to go, and maybe he also moves under the influence of something strong enough to have him in a haze. 

"Okay." 

Yunho really wants to make sure Wooyoung is okay, gingerly getting under the comforter. Wooyoung's hands pull closer, gluing their bodies together in a second. Yunho accommodates himself next to him, one hand moving up, brushing more hair off Wooyoung's face.

Wooyoung's arm curls around his waist, one leg seeping between Yunho's legs. Face pillowing Yunho's chest, Wooyoung lets out a languid sigh before swiftly drifting to sleep. Yunho hugs him closer, chin resting on top of Wooyoung's wet hair.

Eyes wide open, unable to fall asleep. 

He spends hours staring into his bedroom wall, fingers moving up and down Wooyoung's back, following the rhythm of Wooyoung's steady breathing, until the morning light starts drawing patterns on his round cheeks.

He looks so vulnerable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say this chapter was a ride
> 
> I hope you liked it and if you didn't it's okay too!! 
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sanios)


	5. broken promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho was taught to love above all. His mother was so worried he would end becoming the same monster his father was, she turned him weak. Yunho knows that, his demon knows it, too. Yunho is weak when it comes to pain. And Wooyoung materialized in front of him holding a gloomy ocean inside of his golden body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // angst, mentions of dying, toxic behaviour
> 
> god this chapter was so hard to write like I had the idea but the words wouldn't flow sigh I'm sorry if it's written badly and the errors and everything
> 
> I also changed all the chapter titles bc I had a midnight realization that this story is just pain so :D
> 
> wooyoung's pov is brought to you by NF - trauma

* * *

_Namhae, twelve years ago_

"San-ah, what are you doing?" 

In front of his eyes, the wide forest resting by the feet of the mountains glows with the remaining rays of sunshine making it through the clouds. It's not the afterglow. The sunset splatters a masterpiece of colors on the lilac sky, but also on San's round cheeks. Making him glow as well. 

Wooyoung doesn't know a lot about the world that spreads past the trees and the mountains and the clear skies always showcasing the most beautiful artworks. Red, orange, yellow, blue, purple. Wooyoung learned all the names of those colors laying over smooth grass, nose pointing to the sky.

Crimson, amber, gold, cobalt, violet. That's what San calls them and Wooyoung has not a single clue about where or when he learned all those names. San has always been different than the rest of kids. 

And Wooyoung knows a lot about San. 

Since the very beginning, Wooyoung felt different towards San. May it be because of his name. _San._ Short but strong. Holding the entire forest in the cup of his hands. Protection. The mountains protect them, and San was automatically gifted with the same purpose. 

Wooyoung feels at ease when he is with San. Nothing bad can happen if they are together, that's the kind of thought that always accompanies them on their small adventures. 

"Woo, look at that," San raises one of his arms in the air, pointing at the forest. Wooyoung gets close, one arm falling on San's tiny shoulders. He is small, San has always been small and Wooyoung adores it; the way San will always fit in the cup of his hand the same way their village fits at the feet of the mountains. 

Following the direction of San's finger, Wooyoung finds nothing. Just dark mahogany reflecting by the golden of the sunset. Beautiful, but nothing falling out of normality. The way the golden soaks San's skin, that's also beautiful. San really got his name from the mountains; as beautiful as silk.

"What?" 

"There," San moves one hand, placing his warm palm on Wooyoung's cheek without fear, tenderly guiding him towards what his golden eyes are seeing. The same eyes Wooyoung has, but the ones unable to catch whatever has San mesmerized. "Don't you see it?"

"No."

"The demons," San breathes, calm. Lips curling in a smile. Wooyoung knows it's impossible for exorcists to fall for the magic coming from another exorcist's eyes, but he swears San's magic is strong enough to break all barriers. San is gifted, they all know that. And since forever, Wooyoung has been bewitched by San. "Don't you see them? There are demons in the mountain."

Wooyoung's brain finally rings, alerting him of the danger. His body fidgets, eyes fast moving over the line of the trees surrounding the village. There's nothing there. Not even a feeling. If there was a demon there, Wooyoung would've noticed. His entire body would have twisted, ready to accomplish his own fate. 

Everyone else would have noticed. 

The forest is as serene as San is right now. 

"San-ah," Wooyoung repeats, moving to stand in front of him, arms on his shoulders. Pulling him from his reverie with a concerned frown. San jumps, eyes wide open, all the golden dusting away in a second. For a moment, he looks lost, almost like he is out of place, like he doesn't _belong_ there. Wooyoung gets scared for a moment, and the next one San is beaming at Wooyoung like he always does. 

"Wooyoung-ah," he says, mocking the way Wooyoung has been saying his name for as long as he remembers. All their life, because San was already there when Wooyoung arrived in the world. Waiting for him. Wooyoung's cheeks dust in red, fingers tensing around white cloth before he is letting go to cover his face with one arm. He hates the way San's voice has the power to squeeze his heart in ways no other voice can. "I told you to stop calling me like that."

"How should I call you, then?" Wooyoung asks, peering over his own arm.

San's smile widens, fingers gracefully tugging a strand of black hair behind his ear. Wooyoung's throat fills with loads of unspoken words. Names to call San. _God._ He is so in love with San. 

"Sannie."

Wooyoung blushes harder, hopping back, heart pounding inside his tiny chest. 

"That sounds intimate! We are not even part of the same Family."

"We may be from different families, but you are my _family_ , Woo," San leans in, softly taking Wooyoung's hands between his own. Small. San has such small hands. They fit so well inside Wooyoung's hands. "The one that feels real. The family I love. That's you, Woo."

"San…"

"We will be together forever, right?" San blurts, eyes glimmering with their own light. Outshining the sunset melting at their backs. And all the magic coming from their hearts. San it's one of a kind, and Wooyoung is glad that, somehow, fate wanted them together. 

Wooyoung tilts his head, feeling the way San's fingers curl around his own, pulling their bodies together until Wooyoung's nose is bumping San's forehead. Because San is shorter and smaller and he was meant to fit around Wooyoung's arms. 

"I guess?" Wooyoung mumbles, hot breath splashing on San's forehead. 

San giggles, squeezing his heart in the way with such warm fingers. The fingers of light. And the light, the light comes directly from San's own heart. 

"We are _family_ ," San repeats. Wooyoung's hand is shaking when San pulls apart to catch his pinky between his own. Tightly. "I will never leave your side."

San promises to Wooyoung, and the sunset. 

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, the air making music out of his ribs, a soft melody that gets lost in the glowing afternoon, becoming the personal soundtrack of their first pinky promise. 

"I will never leave your side," he repeats, thumbs meeting. San giggles, and Wooyoung swears he is the luckiest boy alive, because he was born inside the arms of the mountains. 

He got to meet San.

And exorcists don't break promises. 

"What were you saying about demons in the mountains?" Wooyoung decides to ask, fingers intertwined as they make their way back to the house, the question sounding vague. Not interested, because there's no way a demon manages to break all their defenses. 

They are safe there. 

San takes his free hand to his heart, fingers pulling from the white fabric of his camisole. He looks up at the sky, thoughtfully. And Wooyoung looks down at him, getting lost in his mottled skin, dozens of golden freckles pooling on his neck.

"It was a feeling," San breathes, not sure of his own words. 

Wooyoung doesn't give it enough importance, because the afterglow is finally catching up, creating a beautiful halo around San's body. Tightening the hold around San's hand, Wooyoung makes up his mind.

He wants to become the one that protects San. For as long as their promise lasts; forever, because if an exorcist breaks a promise, they will break inside as well.

﹢

At some point, Yunho falls asleep with his nose buried in melon scented hair. 

He dreams of Wooyoung. 

A very unrealistic manifestation of the boy he _knows_ because there's sunlight dripping from his eyes. Golden. A pool of a million colors of golden rolling down his cheeks in the shape of tears. Made up colors, Yunho swears, because there aren't that many shades of the color. Looking at the crying-gold Wooyoung of his dream, Yunho feels a pang of pain in his heart. Nearly recognizing him, the feeling fading before he is able to put a name to it.

Wooyoung is glowing. All the cracks in his soul glow, almost like he is telling Yunho: _I am a good person. I don't deserve all this pain._ And Yunho's foggy brain brings back a conversation he had with his mother years ago: _Yunho,_ she had said in a sweet voice, _in order to heal, you need to go through pain. There's nothing shameful in hurting, you need to accept your pain, feel it, give it a name, embrace it. And then, you will get stronger than it, you will kick it out of your body. Once you go through every step, all your scars will glow golden._

Hurting is a part of life.

Wooyoung stopped fighting a long time ago. Yunho has always been the perceptive type. One look into Wooyoung's eyes was enough for him to find all the darkness engulfing him. No light at all. Wooyoung never accepted his pain, he just buried it deep down his heart. That's why all his scars are bleeding over and over again. 

Wooyoung deserves to be covered in gold, that's what Yunho thinks before the dream is vanishing and the warm image of Wooyoung is dusting in front of his eyes.

Waking up to squint at his cracked ceiling, Yunho finds coldness. Both in his chest and his arms. 

_"I'll be gone in the morning,"_ Wooyoung said. 

Honestly, Yunho knows nothing about Wooyoung. In spite of all the pain huddling in his chest last night, Wooyoung is still a stranger and Yunho is ashamed of how mushy he can get from time to time. They click well, though. Yunho has a lot of love to give and Wooyoung… Wooyoung is silently screaming for help. 

Yunho was taught to love above all. His mother was so worried he would end becoming the same monster his father was, she turned him _weak_. Yunho knows that, his demon knows it, too. Yunho is weak when it comes to pain. And Wooyoung materialized in front of him holding a gloomy ocean inside of his golden body.

Yunho moved by impulse.

Yunho hoped for Wooyoung to stay. But it would have been pointless, because late night Wooyoung feels like part of his dream, too. Yunho knows nothing about Wooyoung but he _knows_ the next time they see each other, Wooyoung will play with his lip ring and drive Yunho crazy and, just like Wooyoung does, Yunho will bury all the pain five feet down his own heart. 

And pretend it doesn't exist. Because it isn't his pain, it's Wooyoung's pain. And only Wooyoung has the power to step up and let Yunho fill all his dark fissures with gold.

Yunho sighs, feeling drained. 

On his phone, eleven in the morning. It was near eight in the morning the last time he checked, Wooyoung still comfortably sleeping in his arms. It's been only three hours and not only his mind feels it, his body whines under the weight of a sleepless night when he sits in bed. Everything rubs sore, neck hard as a stone. He would give everything to just hundle in the blankets—that underneath all the melon shampoo, hide Wooyoung's own scent—and sleep for the rest of the day. 

However, there's no time to sleep. Yunho's supposed to be packing and moving today. Start from scratch. The mess of boxes and books spilled on the floor of his room reminding him how he already asked Mingi for help. The boy will knock on his door after lunch to help Yunho with the amount of shit he has been collecting over the course of the years. He needs to pack at least half of it before he arrives, because even when it's been only two weeks since he met Mingi, it's enough time to know the demon will get engrossed with Yunho's childhood pictures and spend half afternoon laying in bed, not helping at all. 

It's weird, almost derisive. Yunho was baking cookies with Mingi less than a day ago. They were laughing and flour fighting and riding the wave of happiness the day brought with the afternoon's events. Then, Wooyoung was crashing in his arms and shattering between his fidgety fingers. Middle of the night, the sound of the water splattering around his waist is still loud on Yunho's ears. And now, not even twenty-four hours later, Yunho is waking up from a nightmare and everything is so blurry he starts wondering what was real and what wasn't. Wooyoung is gone like a breath in the middle of a blizzard. 

Yunho is unable to get rid of the emptiness sticking to his chest as he lazily goes over his morning routine. His demon remains calm, suddenly going through an awkward age and refusing to spare a word to him. Yunho sighs tiredly. Whatever. San promised to get rid of his demon and Yunho unquestionably believed him. It doesn't matter how mad his demon gets, Yunho doesn't feel scared when it comes to San. And he really wants to have a normal college life. Bake his cookies. Bring happiness to his mother's life. Have inner peace.

Eyes half closed, Yunho moves to the bathroom first, splattering cold water on his face. In the mirror, he whines in disgust. He looks like a mess, starting to feel thankful that Wooyoung decided to evaporate without a word because Yunho would die if he had to stand in front of Wooyoung looking like this. Pale, dark bags under his drained eyes, digging so deep in his skin he is sure Yeosang would drop his jaw horrified, no makeup in the world able to conceal them. Chapped lips, furrowed by tiny fissures. When he parts them, tensing them in a square smile, the skin breaks and a drop of blood stains his lower lip. 

Yunho throws his head back with a whine, tasting the blood on his tongue. Bitter. 

More water splattering and an intensive teeth brushing later, Yunho is finally moving into the living room. He licks his lips repeatedly, trying to keep them moisturized meanwhile he seeks in his own blurry memories for the exact place where he threw the lip balm set Yeosang gifted him for Valentine's because _Yunho, we are friends, but I am not and I will never be friends with chapped lips._

Yunho freezes by the door frame. 

Eyes wide open, he catches Wooyoung's figure. Real Wooyoung. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, still wearing Yunho's clothes, black hair unkempt (Yunho's fault), lazily going through the second half of a cooking show—Yunho knows it because he used to watch the same program with his mother. The volume of the TV is barely audible, and the fact Wooyoung tried to be quiet to not wake him up is soon pouring more mirth inside his heart than the fact that, well, Wooyoung is right there.

Wooyoung didn't leave.

Wooyoung is wearing his clothes and sitting on his couch, bored expression and teeth daintily playing with the metal ball of his lip ring. Going over his own thoughts without noticing Yunho standing there like a fool. 

Yunho realizes this is exactly what he is going to be waking up to from now on and the thought smacks him so hard he is suddenly wide awake. Rushing his way back to the room, sheathing his hands in the velvety gloves even when his mind feels the calmest in years, heart pounding. 

There's a whimper sliding through his wounded lips when he realizes he will, in fact, face Wooyoung looking like a sleep deprived college student going through heartbreak. He moves back to the bathroom, facing himself. Another cry, more water. Yunho is starting to feel warm all over. 

_'You are not here, right?'_ He throws inside his mind, trying to find his demon.

The only thing he gets back is an eerily echo, and instead of worrying for the sudden silence, Yunho feels happy. It's the first time he is alone with Wooyoung. Not Yeosang, not an annoying demonic part of himself.

Just Yunho and Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung's eyes are moving towards him when he finally moves back into the living room, nervously pulling from his own fingers. It's unfair how gorgeous Wooyoung looks right now.

No one would say he was wrecked just a few hours ago. He just looks his usual self, a little bit cuter but Yunho blames it for how big Yunho's clothes fall on him. Wrinkling everywhere, Wooyoung's hands are utterly covered by the sleeves and his chest gets exposed with the way the hoodie slides down. 

Yunho realizes the beautiful glow of his skin when he spends more than two seconds staring into his chest. His brain is soon sending images from last night. Wooyoung laying naked around his fingers. Yunho is glad he was blinded by the worry to notice how beautiful Wooyoung's skin is, because he would have lost his mind.

Like he is doing right now.

"Good morning," Wooyoung finally says, raising an arm in the air. A sweater paw. Adorable. He waves at him and Yunho's heart falters with a lot of different feelings trying to exit at the same time. "Did I wake you up?"

Yunho shakes his head. "No. Not at all."

"Good." Wooyoung nods to himself, raising the volume this time. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Yunho lies, but he kind of gets Wooyoung is asking if he slept well having him curled around his body specifically. And that, that felt nice. So it's not really a lie. "You?"

"The best sleep I had in years." Wooyoung is still focused on the TV screen, where a middle aged woman is baking a lemon pie, but he sounds sincere.

Yunho is glad.

He moves slowly, taking wary steps towards the kitchen. He gets the way Wooyoung's gaze falls from the TV to follow his movements, stopping by the door frame to peer at him.

"Did you have breakfast?"

"I thought it would be rude to raid your fridge after stealing the blanket," Wooyoung chuckles, tired eyes checking Yunho out. "I wouldn't mind a coffee, though."

Yunho ends up pouring all the things inside his fridge on the countertop, rolling up his sleeves to prepare the best meal he had ever cooked. He doesn't have a lot of cooking skills aside from baking, but he has been keeping himself alive for the past seven years and even his mother praised his fried rice as high rank delicious once.

That's what he makes. In the meantime, he serves a mug of orange juice for Wooyoung, because he doesn't like coffee. He wishes his demon power allowed him to materialize a bag of coffee in his cabinet, observing the way Wooyoung smirks at the mug.

"So you lied," Wooyoung hops on the countertop, cutely swinging his feet, that are still engulfed in Yunho's yellow socks. 

Yunho peeks at him, trying to focus on stirring the rice instead of how cuddly Wooyoung looks right now. Hair a mess, long enough to fall at each side of his face. A morning blush shading his round cheeks. Pouty moisturized lips, cuter than ever. 

"You don't like coffee at all," Wooyoung points, taking a sip and immediately scrunching his nose in disgust. "And I don't like orange juice."

"I do like coffee. I like coffee so much I drank it all," Yunho lies again. "Do you prefer water?"

"Nah," Wooyoung takes another sip. "The taste is better than the one glued to my tongue."

Yunho steals another glance, watching as Wooyoung empties the mug. Last night happened for real, even if they are cozily preparing breakfast like long term friends. The questions bubble inside Yunho's mind, stronger than last night, but he is not sure of how much Wooyoung remembers. 

If his memories reach a wall right after calling Yunho or if he remembers the whole night. Getting in the tub and talking about his family. About a person breaking a promise. About being tired of pretending. 

Yunho doesn't know Wooyoung at all and for that reason he can't read him and his downcast eyes that well. 

Wooyoung doesn't look like his usual flirty self, but neither does he look as broken as he looked last night right now. It's something in between. And Yunho wonders if that's how Wooyoung always looks in the mornings. 

Disengaged from the world. The pain but also the pleasure nowhere to be found. Just Wooyoung and his softness. 

Yunho is noticing just now how soft Wooyoung is.

Yunho goes back to stirring, enjoying the calmness. The silence is not awkward at all and that's a relief. It's been six months since they met, Yunho always thought they wouldn't click well. Too different, not a lot of things to talk about, awkward silences floating around. Maybe that's why Yunho never really tried to be Wooyoung's friend: the sex was never an option and the conversations were wounded to death from the very beginning.

He is glad he was wrong.

Or maybe it's because Wooyoung is far from the world. Only his body is standing in Yunho's tiny kitchen, his mind thousand worlds away. But he doesn't care. For the morning, Yunho allows himself to disengage from the world, too.

They forget about what happened and simply enjoy breakfast. Hurting is a part of life, and life moves on. And, sometimes, hurting together brings a strange peace to the heart. 

Yunho fills two bowls with the rice, placing them on the kitchen table next. Wooyoung hops off of the countertop without making a sound, sniffing the air as he takes a seat.

"Smells nice." He plops down the chair, fingers rapidly curling around the spoon and taking a bite. Blowing air with the rice inside his mouth, body driven by an eager hunger enough to deflect him of the heat of the meal. _Cute._ Yunho is still looking at him, delighted with the way Wooyoung's eyes open wide once he is able to swallow, one grain of rice sticking to his lower lip. "God. This is amazing."

"Thanks."

"For real, delicious." Wooyoung takes another bite, filling his cheeks like a hamster, not caring at all about how the heat will affect his tongue in the future. Yunho swears he doesn't need to eat to feel full, and just one second later, he is feeling grossed at his own corny thought. In front of him, Wooyoung starts moaning at some point. Yunho's limbs twitch. "Fuck, Yunho. This is so good."

Wooyoung is not looking at him, too focused on his food to notice the way Yunho's lips part, color painting his cheeks. He once imagined these exact words coming out of Wooyoung's throat, raspy and hot, in a completely different scenario. Yunho guesses he will be getting all his dreams accomplished in ways he never expected to.

By now, he has already seen Wooyoung naked, and Wooyoung has moaned his name. No sex involved. 

A good thing, Yunho tries to push down his brain. It's a good thing he is managing to get to know the Wooyoung hiding underneath all the sex that, if Yunho isn't wrong, is nothing but a cry for help. 

"You're not eating?" Wooyoung brandishes his spoon at him, more rice sticking to his moisturized lips. Yunho looks down at his steaming bowl, not really hungry. He shakes his head. "Can I have it?"

Yunho is glad to slide the bowl towards Wooyoung's direction. The boy beams at him, one of the most pure smiles Yunho has ever seen. The way his eyes curve into crescents reminds him to San.

For a second, Wooyoung fills with the same fragility the exorcist carries with him.

"It's nice seeing you eat," Yunho breathes, not really in command of his brain, captivated by the way Wooyoung empties the second portion in five bites.

"I've been told I eat well."

A loud alarm pulls Yunho down to Earth; he doesn't want to go there, doing his best to look outside the window instead of falling for Wooyoung's brazen wink. The sky is clear, barely any cloud on sight. Yunho is so tired his eyes burn within seconds, or maybe it's the bright light. It's a beautiful sunny day. 

Not the type of day a night like theirs follows. But Yunho is glad his luck decided to bring a sunny sky for Wooyoung to enjoy.

"Thank you so much for the food," Wooyoung sighs satiated, both hands—sweater paws—patting his now filled stomach. "You have it all, Yunho."

Yunho scoops both bowls in silence, placing them down the sink. Carefully taking off his gloves, he opens the tap, letting the water fill it as he grabs the pan and glances at Wooyoung over his shoulder. 

"What do you mean?"

"Pretty face, smart brain, cuddle machine, incredible cooking skills," Wooyoung enumerates and Yunho can't help but smile content, cheerfully bouncing as he brushes the sponge against one of the bowls. "I am one hundred percent sure you have a big cock, too. I love big cocks the most."

Yunho's heart lets out a sarcastic laugh before jumping out of his body and ditching him, like it always does. His fingers grit so hard and abruptly he is soon bleeding between the broken porcelain pieces. The soapy water turns cherry and Yunho starts panicking with the way his demon lazily writhes down the nook he decided to hide. Or maybe it's just the power, because he doesn't feel invaded at all, he just feels hot.

Wooyoung-hot.

And how much Yunho wishes he could be having those types of conversations without his entire body flaring. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he sinks his hands in the water, just in case.

"Was that too straightforward?" Wooyoung says, amused.

"Hmm. I'm a little shy, you know." Yunho moves his fingers beneath the water. Nothing serious, but his heart is racing thrice its usual speed, all the blood squeezing between the painless cuts decorating his klutzy fingers. 

"I've noticed. And that just makes me want you more." Yunho moves slowly, driven by curiosity—no one has ever wanted _him_ —, eyes searching for Wooyoung. The boy is still sitting, body laxed and tongue meeting his lower lip. Fiddling with his lip ring. Eyes glistening. "We are good at cuddling, imagine how good we will be at fucking. We could just try. Now."

Yunho turns back, clenching his fingers around broken porcelain, scratching his skin even more in the process. Mind blank. He can't think about that right now, so he just–

"I haven't had sex in years."

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

The silence hangs heavy around them and Yunho is certain that if he looks back, he will find Wooyoung gawking. Yunho doesn't, eyes fixed in the cherry water, thinking about Yeosang. Oh, God. Wooyoung will tell Yeosang and he will never hear the end of this.

"I'm so sorry for you," it's the first thing Wooyoung says, and then, he is laughing. 

Yunho freezes, body melting with the sound of giggles. Wooyoung is _giggling_ and when Yunho turns around, dumbfounded both by the sound and the odd reaction to his confession, he swears his heart drops to his ass. Wooyoung has his eyes closed, both arms curling around his own stomach, body shaking with mirth. All his teeth on sight, lips curling in a radiant smile. The brightest Yunho has ever seen in his entire life. 

Yunho's fire is extinguished.

Easy.

One heartbeat, he is flaring. One heartbeat, he is blooming. 

For the first time in months, he looks at Wooyoung and he doesn't feel scared. He feels… Warm? But not hot. It's not the fire. It's… It's his heart beating like crazy to the point his cheeks are burning because Wooyoung sounds like spring.

Wooyoung, broken Wooyoung hiding beneath a promiscuous facade, is able to sound like that. Overflowing with joy. 

Because of Yunho. 

He doesn't know how to feel about that, so he just turns around and pulls his hands out of the water. There are red scratches everywhere, blood flowing through countless tiny scratches. Yunho doesn't have time for that, he is _melting._

He puts on the gloves, hands wet and bloody. Turning around to admire Wooyoung's glowing face, astonished someone's laugh is enough to make flowers bloom in his heart. It's the first time he is experiencing that type of… _Feeling._

"I'm so sorry," Wooyoung says in between laughter, enjoying the moment to the point tears start crowding on his eyes. "I'm not mocking you, I swear."

Yunho knows. 

"I just," Wooyoung inhales deeply, one hand on his chest. "I've been wondering why would you reject me because it's obvious you are interested in me," Yunho jolts, heart stuttering. All the flowers move along, tickling him from the inside, filling his lungs with an unknown scent. The scent of the flowers Wooyoung bloomed there. Yellow. They are yellow and tiny, just like him. "Now I kind of get it. When was the last time you touched a dick that isn't yours?"

Yunho violently blushes, eyes falling to his feet. He meets the pink of his socks. 

"I am not interested in you," he says in order to avoid the long nine years of touching his dick only, totally catching the way Wooyoung rolls his eyes. "I am not!"

"Of course you are. You look at me like you want to devour me."

"I do not."

Yunho swears Wooyoung will be the death of him. At least he will die surrounded by flowers. Embarrassed to death, but pretty. 

"There's nothing to feel embarrassed about," Wooyoung adds, almost like he is able to read his mind and Yunho wouldn't be surprised if he could. "I am used to it. And you are hot, the perfect man, I already told you."

Yunho twists on his heels, hands flat against the countertop. He really wasn't expecting for things to go this way, and if he has to be sincere with his new flowered friends, it's devastating the way Wooyoung can hide his pain that well. What's more devastating news is how easily it was for Yunho to fall for Wooyoung, almost bewitched. If Wooyoung cries, something inside Yunho wilts. If Wooyoung laughs, flowers are blooming out of the pain. 

Easily. 

Devastating.

Because the moment Wooyoung touches Yunho's skin, he will also set everything ablaze. 

"You are so cute, Yunho," Wooyoung croons sweetly, rising to his feet and walking towards him. Yunho's body stiffens underneath the tender dance of Wooyoung's fingers on his back. Rubbing everything hurting away. "I would take good care of your dick." 

The boy is moving back to the living room without waiting for an answer—not that Yunho has more than a squeaky scream to add to their conversation—yawning and stretching his arms in the air. Casually. He was crying and breaking in Yunho's arms less than a day ago.

Hours.

It's been _hours._

Wooyoung is just flirting and giggling and acting like nothing happened. In front of Yunho, Wooyoung cracks, and yet, he is still able to make him bloom in every meaning of the world. 

Forget about burying the pain five feet deep down his heart. Yunho will rather bloom golden flowers out of Wooyoung's pain instead of watching him flaunt all his crimson blood. 

﹢

"Have you seen my phone?" Wooyoung strolls around Yunho's tiny room, eyes lazily moving all over the cracks of the walls and the pictures scattering on the old table. There are carton boxes folded by one wall, chemistry books piled down next to the shelving. The wardrobe is open and half of the clothes are wrinkled and cluttered on the end shelf. Roughly like Wooyoung's midnight arrival clicked the pause button of Yunho's mundane life.

Yunho is packing. He is moving to _their_ new apartment today. Yunho for sure was packing with his mind blank, unconscious of what was happening at the other side of the window. All the pain spilled inside dark rooms and atop hot skin. It makes Wooyoung blue. Sad that humans are so full of themselves. That everyone hurts but no one notices. You can be nonchalantly packing all your shit to move into a better apartment and someone can be shattering. 

At the same time.

Same minute, same seconds. Yunho was gushing mirth and Wooyoung's inner doors were being slammed open. 

He can't forget about San and the memory of his glimmering eyes is heart-shattering. 

It's been two days but time works strangely for Wooyoung. It's always been strange since the night of the tragedy. Nine years, time flowing slow, Wooyoung's mind moving fast. Shadows walking past him, laughter on his neck, fingers on his hips. Good. It was good. It's always good to stop for a second and catch his breath.

With San, he caught his lungs on fire, and he has been burning for over two days. Two days. It seems like the nine years that flowed like calm water are suddenly weighing him down. Drowning him at the same time embers melt his insides. Wooyoung can't breathe at all.

Two days, it doesn't look like two days at all.

This time was different. 

He saw San a week ago (it looks like years ago, black cap and an alley, his fingers around San's neck, feeling the blood rush. The heart race. The honey poured from San's eyes, gold and warm. Always smiling to him). Wooyoung was so mad. His body ached but no door opened. His mind drifted to fifteen year old San taking a piece of his soul, crack of dawn, white and softness engulfing them. It didn't open any door. 

Wooyoung was mad and horny. Because sex is what makes him forget about San, and his body has already tied some threads. When he wants to forget, he gets hard. Call it muscle memory. It's annoying, it has shaped him like a jerk. They all say it. 

_'Jung Wooyoung fucks good, but he is empty.'_

_'He doesn't have a heart.'_

_'Unable to love, he is only good to take dick.'_

_'He is dead inside.'_

_'A good fuck, an exquisite fuck, but is there something more?'_

_'Empty little slut.'_

Wooyoung is empty. He knows that. He accepted it a long time ago.

He lost his family. He lost San. And then, he was losing his will to live. Everything slid through his toes. Wooyoung knows how empty he is, but he doesn't care. It's been a decade and he decided he was better off alone.

You can't get hurt if you don't get attached. If you burn the emotional bridges, then the pain won't be able to reach you. You'll be safe. 

Two days ago, Wooyoung didn't feel empty for the first time in eons. San filled him again. All his body doors opening at the same time, the cold water making a loud gurgle as it filled him from the feet. It was the best sex he had in years, but it shattered him. Because it wasn't empty sex, it was sex filled with feelings. And love. And memories. And when he tried to burn the bridge, he fell into the water.

Waking up in the morning, Wooyoung was drowning. 

He didn't feel safe within his own skin. For the first time in years, he was feeling everything at once, and San's words resonated within every memory. 

_"Exorcists don't break promises."_

Wooyoung thought he would regret having sex with San, but he doesn't. It made him feel and a hidden part of his soul is grateful for the way San's embers started the sleeping machinery again. Wooyoung regrets making that promise so lightly. 

Talk. San wants to talk about the past. San wants to keep on opening his doors. And Wooyoung so stupidly gave him all the keys. He accepted. He _promised._

Wooyoung emptied his body from _everything,_ including his exorcist part. He stopped using his powers–he _refused_ to do it. He resigned from his own family. His reason to be. He is not an exorcist anymore, he is a _hunter._ He hunts, he kills, he gets his hands stained in blood, he is full of regret and rage.

Exorcists are not like that. 

However, Wooyoung can't break a promise. _When an exorcist breaks a promise, something inside will break as well,_ he grew up with those words echoing in his mind. 

Wooyoung was sure there wasn't a single thing left inside that could break until San came back. Wooyoung is scared. Wooyoung wants to close all his doors again. Wooyoung doesn't want to barge into Yunho's calm mundane life like he did because he took way too much _dust_ in order to forget about San (it didn't work). 

Wooyoung wants to be empty again, and for that, he needs to talk with San. He needs to keep his promise, even if San didn't. 

Wooyoung wonders if something broke inside of San that night when he refused to keep his word. 

_"Come with me,"_ Wooyoung howled. 

_"Stay,"_ San shook his head no. He said no. Right after saying he would be always by his side.

San called Wooyoung his real family. The one he loved. And then, he was choosing his exorcist family over him. 

Wooyoung doesn't need his heart broken again. He needs San to leave for good. 

"Wooyoung?"

Yunho's voice sounds muffled, and looking up, Wooyoung realizes he has been spacing out. When he turns to Yunho, the sound pierces his brain. Shrill. Birds chirping at the other side of the open window, calm. It's another sunny day. But still loud. 

Yunho is looking at him with the same worry that has been accompanying him all morning, and that makes Wooyoung's lungs fill with cold water. He is doing nothing but bringing problems to Yunho. Sweet, forbearing Yunho. 

Since that night at Twilight. 

It's always Yunho unfolding for him right after San's warm fingers touch his heart. They're so different, yet they're the only ones holding power inside their souls; power to make Wooyoung _feel_. 

Wooyoung doesn't remember a thing about last night. He was hunting, head empty. The swift movements of a demon trailing a way down the slums. He remembers the night sky. The next memory his brain brings him is Yunho's face. Worried to death. Wooyoung is scared of what he said, or what Yunho saw. So he smiles.

Yunho is a good kid. An angel. Angels shouldn't get involved with demons, and Wooyoung is overflowing with them. 

"Ah," he inhales. "What did you say?"

"I said I don't know where your phone is," Yunho says in a small voice, eyes filling with fear. Wooyoung gulps through a lump. He doesn't want Yunho scared. He doesn't want Yunho to be left as empty as him. "I think you dropped it last night. I was thinking about you so I didn't stop to pick it. Sorry."

"It's okay," Wooyoung smiles bright, because he has learned how to hide the pain. And he is very good at it, to the point it doesn't hurt at all—at least, when San isn't around. "I'll buy another one. Whatever. Thanks for taking care of me. You are so soft," Yunho's eyes glimmer differently, making Wooyoung's heart beat better again. "Have I ever told you how soft you are?"

Yunho flinches, then he moves aside. His cheeks dust in soft pink, perfectly matching the tonality of his hair. Wooyoung is not the type to notice things like pretty hair. Actually, he doesn't even notice faces anymore. He just seeks pleasure and numbness. But Yunho is cute. Yunho is a little different from the rest. 

An universe Wooyoung is scared to explore. 

"No, you haven't."

Wooyoung smiles tenderly, and this time, he means it. 

"Now I have. You are soft."

"You, too," Yunho looks back at him, eyes flaring with determination. Wooyoung arches a brown, muddled. "You are soft, Wooyoung. I don't mean to pry and if you want to pretend nothing happened, then it's okay. But I'm not good at pretending and you are soft. I like soft Wooyoung more than normal Wooyoung."

Wooyoung bites his tongue, hands closing into fists at his back. 

"Normal Wooyoung fucks pretty well, though."

"I prefer the cuddles," Yunho murmurs.

Wooyoung ducks his head low, he is obviously not in the right state of mind to fight that. Guess Yunho makes him feel that way. _Soft._ Like it's okay to feel, because there will be someone opening his arms for him right at the end of the line. When he looks at Yunho, he sees a face. Different from Yeosang and Seonghwa and even San. Wooyoung looks at Yunho and feels at ease.

And he recalls feeling the same back then looking into San's golden eyes.

His entire body sinks in a memory, and he is scared again. Yunho's eyes melt in caramel, telling him everything will be okay. San's eyes promised him the same. He can't fall for Yunho. Or anyone. 

He looks around instead, eyes falling on one of the pictures. A young woman holding a kid. Yunho. Both of them are smiling, the ocean at their backs. A jab of pain pierces Wooyoung's stomach. 

"Is this your mom?"

Yunho moves closer, peeking over his shoulder.

"Yeah. That was the day I turned seven years."

"You look like her," Wooyoung mumbles. "Where is she now? Will she come around to visit you?"

Wooyoung peers at Yunho, who is suddenly staring at his own gloved hands. For a minute, he says nothing, and if Wooyoung listens carefully, he would be able to get the tangle of thoughts trying to find a way out. 

"She won't be coming," Yunho says in the end. "She's at the hospital right now, and I don't think she will ever make it out."

Wooyoung feels the way his own heart crawls to his throat, pounding. Yunho catches the way his expression deforms, swiftly raising both hands in the air.

"She's okay," he babbles. "I went to see her the other day and she was doing yoga with her friends. She has a weak body and I can't take care of her, so she is better there, but there's nothing to get worried about. She's fine"

"Is that so?" Yunho nods. "And what about your father?"

Yunho coughs, one hand flying to his neck. Scratching. 

"He left when I was five."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's better off like this," then Yunho is beaming, and Wooyoung wonders what good he does to Yunho for him to bring sunshine to his gloomy sky so selflessly. 

Wooyoung bates his breath. "I guess I should get going." 

Yunho nods, shuffling to one side. 

"Can I borrow your clothes? I'll give them back later, at home."

Yunho's ears get red with the word. _Cute_.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll wash your clothes."

"Don't bother, just toss them away. I won't be putting on those pants _ever_ again."

"They're nice pants, though."

Wooyoung chuckles, stretching his shoulders on the way out of the room. Yunho follows him closely, picking a set of keys from the coffee table, putting them in the cup of Wooyoung's hand.

"Your apartment keys. You can't ditch me now," he warns, caring. Yunho cares a lot, that's not good at all. 

Wooyoung's lips curl in another smile.

"I won't. I'm really excited to be living with you," he says, and he is not lying at all. In spite of not wanting to get romantically involved, it would be nice living with someone that doesn't think of him as an empty carcase. Someone that looks at him with glowing eyes and russet cheeks. 

Someone soft. 

"Just," Yunho babbles, swelling his chest with air. "Just come to me every time you feel like don't pretending."

Wooyoung's heart stutters. He is weak. He is wide open. He is feeling a lot and he is not on command of his own body. For a brief second, he lets himself fall in a warm pool of hope. Yunho is the light he has been searching for. 

Wooyoung clenches his jaw. Not now. He can't put all his pain on Yunho's golden heart, they both will end up wounded. 

"You are tall, Yunho," he notices instead, going the only way he knows that can pull Yunho aside. "How tall are you?"

Yunho frowns, a little bit confused. 

"I'm 186 centimetres tall."

"I love tall guys," Wooyoung sighs, using his best alluring voice. "Can I go to you if I feel like getting my face between your legs, too?"

The reply almost makes Wooyoung laugh. Yunho's cheeks dust in vermilion, lips hanging open. It must be impossible for someone to blush so ridiculously hard, like a character from a cartoon. But Yunho looks pale, mostly because he spent all night taking care of him. And maybe that's why it's an almost, and Wooyoung doesn't laugh at all.

Yunho raises an arm in the air, one finger pointing at him.

"Stop that."

"I can't control myself. You are my type," Wooyoung wiggles his shoulders, feeling the soreness of the night smacking him. 

"Stop," Yunho pleads, louder. "You don't need to pretend with me, I told you. You wanted to be my friend. If we are going to be friends, you need to stop. I know you don't even like me that way."

Wooyoung's arms fall loose, eyes downcast. He wished that was true, because it would be easier. But he really likes Yunho, and after this night, Wooyoung is sure he won't be able to go back. 

With a sigh, he moves forward until he is standing in front of Yunho, shoes softly touching Yunho's toes, engulfed in pink socks.

Wooyoung peers at him, fingers moving upwards. Curling around the fabric of Yunho's hoodie, pulling him down with a swift movement. His lips clash on Yunho's cheek, warm and melon scented skin. He can feel the way Yunho squeals underneath his lips, filling his body with warmth. 

Fighting all the cold water San poured.

Wooyoung is now lukewarm water and regret. 

"I'm messing with you," Wooyoung mumbles, twisting on his heels and not looking back. The keys dig on his hand when he clenches it, hard. 

﹢

"I don't buy it," Jongho barks at him, arms nervously flailing in the air. San presses his knees against his chest hard, a pout hanging from his lips. "You are doing shit."

"Why don't you believe me?" San mumbles, using his best coaxing voice. "I'm finally acting like an exorcist. Father was elated. Why are you so pressed?"

Jongho has been pacing all over their shared room for half an hour already, since San came back from a very awkward lunch with his father to tell him the new plans. Moving into an apartment located in the middle of the city, near the college campus. 

What San told everyone: he wants to get closer to the humans living in the city in order to steal as much information about the White Flamed Demon as he can. The young people are always sharing stories, some of them fake, some of them not that much. He wants to immerse with them to get the information before the hunters. Living with two college students, being close to their friends' core, will be helpful. It will grant them some benefit against the hunters.

His father accepted in a second. Elated that he was finally showing some initiative. It was so easy San spent a few minutes without believing he could be that good at lying. 

The real reason behind it: Yunho.

San doesn't consider an obsessive person, even when Jongho believes the total opposite. San might be obsessive when it comes to Wooyoung, but that's another thing. That's related to his soul and the fact he would do anything Wooyoung asks him to do.

San isn't obsessive. But he is curious, and stubborn, and Yunho is the biggest enigma he has encountered in his short existence. Yunho and his demon. Yunho and his sunflower scented restraint seal. San won't be able to focus on their mission until he unravels the truth about Yunho. 

And maybe moving in with _him_ is a little bit crazy. He is sure Yunho will think he is insane. But there was no other way. Yunho will keep avoiding him because the spell breaks everytime San walks out of his sight. Because of the two souls colliding inside the same body, San isn't able to cast him as a whole. He only reaches one half, and the other half is soon brushing the magic as if it was nothing. 

Yunho won't be coming to him and San will be back, trapped in Namhae, without a single clue of why an exorcist would help a demon out. Living together will allow him to bewitch Yunho as he wants. Make him drink the tea. Unveil all his secrets.

It's true San likes Yunho. There's nothing but sunshine and wildflowers appearing in his mind when he looks into his doe eyes. San is sure Yunho is the sweetest. It's the demon the one San doesn't like, not even a tiny bit. He is dangerous and strong. And San has never really felt the desire of ending a demon's life. He wasn't born with that _fate._ But this one, this one seems to be beckoning his name. 

"You can't be trusted," Jongho says, and this time San pouts harder, feeling attacked for real.

"Don't be mean. You are my younger brother, where's your respect?"

"It's because of Wooyoung, right?" Jongho narrows his eyes, ignoring him. San sulks harder. "You can totally immerse" he adds quotation marks in the air with his fingers, and San feels offended by how little trust his own brother has in him, "with the people without a flat. You are an exorcist, you don't need friends. One blink and everyone will be telling you whatever you ask," Jongho is true, and that's the main reason San is bewildered he was able to walk through his lie without incidents. "Are you invading Wooyoung's flat, maybe? Are you that crazy?"

San lets his arms fall against the mattress, scowling. 

"Wooyoung doesn't have a single thing to do with this."

And for the first time, he is saying the truth. This is not about Wooyoung at all. Of course, Wooyoung is friends with Yunho. There's high chances of them casually meeting in their shared living room. But Wooyoung still smells like forsythias. The second San gets the honey twisting under his nostrils, he will be gone.

Wooyoung broke in his arms. Twice. Becoming sand between his fingers and flying away with the wind.

San did that. 

If Wooyoung was mad before, he must be enraged now. He needs time, San will give it to him.

"San, you really need to stop," Jongho sighs, tired, one hand pressing his temple. "I don't really want you to die."

San's lips sketch a deceiving smile.

"Why would I die?"

"You feel guilty," Jongho stares into his soul. "You blame yourself for what happened that night. You hurt Wooyoung, and that's why you will totally open your arms for him to kill you."

San takes a deep breath, unable to contain the thought that crosses his mind. _Whatever makes Wooyoung happy._

_Again._

San parts his lips, ready to retort back, but his words are fading in a breath when the rumble coming from the aisle gets louder. The servants guarding the doors jump, startled. There's footsteps, a loud _'you can't get in'_ and then the door is being yanked open. Three servants holding onto big clothes. 

San throat abruptly closes, heart sinking with the vision of black hair and somber eyes.

Wooyoung.

"Tell them to let go," Wooyoung spits, eyes not leaving San but chin pointed at the servants. He doesn't seem to be having problems keeping them in place, though. 

San obeys in silence, one hand gesturing in the air, almost like he is saying _'It's okay'_. But is it really okay? 

Wooyoung coming to him after that night makes San shudder in panic. 

"What does this mean?" Jongho asks, and he totally asks San.

San will always be happy to see Wooyoung but, God, he chose the worst moment to show up.

"I don't know," San babbles, eyes following Wooyoung's attire. A neon green hoodie three sizes bigger, falling past his knees. Black sweatpants, folded at the ankles. They're big, one of his arms engulfed inside the sleeve, obviously not Wooyoung's clothes at all. And San gets it in the air, the reason he couldn't predict Wooyoung barging in his hotel room. A hotel filled with exorcists that are not fond of the boy that abandoned them to join the hunters.

Wooyoung reeks like melon. 

Fresh. The scent tangles around San's ribs, making music out of a breath. Wooyoung's eyes are ice cold, but San can only see his own touch there. He was the one stealing all the warmth those eyes used to hold. 

Wooyoung moves before Jongho can throw another question in the air, crossing the room in three strides. He stands in front of San, pinky curling around his own. Tight and gruffly. It hurts, but San puts a zipper on his lips, looking down.

"I made a promise to him," Wooyoung roars, pointing their linked pinkies towards Jongho. Such an exorcist thing to do. "We need to talk," Wooyoung's hair bounces when he moves back, eyes falling on San.

_Oh._

That's right. The memory of that promise held in a dimmed room and between choppy breathing smacks San so hard it reaches his heart. Wooyoung promised to talk. And he is keeping his promise, even after all these years.

San gulps, encountering a lump plugging his airway.

"Are you for real?" Jongho breathes, question aimed at San again.

He nods, shortly. 

"Yeah."

"It won't take us a long," Wooyoung adds. "Leave us alone."

"Please," San gazes at Jongho, getting everything his brother has been telling. Wooyoung will always be on top of everything. 

Jongho hesitates for a few seconds, eyes pouring compassion, then he is leaving the room without saying a thing. White clothes flapping around his body. The same clothes San is wearing, and the ones Wooyoung used to stain in dirt all the time. But not anymore. 

Wooyoung wears black all the time now. It's nice seeing him glow in green neon, even when it's obvious he borrowed the clothes. San doesn't want to know from who nor why.

Once they are alone, Wooyoung abruptly moves their hands, thumbs touching for a fraction of second before he is letting go. Shuffling the furthest the room allows him. Back glued to the back, arms crossed. 

San sits down, feet touching the floor. His chest fill with air and something inside shakes, heart hammering so hard against his ribs it must have created cracks on the bones. 

Looking at Wooyoung, he meets dozens of emotions overlapping. All of them holding negative connotations. A pang of guilt pierces San's stomach. He wants to ask if he is okay. 

"We are talking," Wooyoung cuts him before he even has the chance. "You wanted to know why I don't hate you, right? Here I am. I don't break my promises."

San smiles to his feet, shoulders hunched. Sadness pouring on his lips. He doesn't need Wooyoung to remind him about their broken promise. The one San broke. 

"You broke our promise," Wooyoung starts, feeling the need to say it aloud, and even when San was ready to hear it, his chest contracts, forcing all the air on his lungs out with a soft whimper. "You told me you would be by my side forever, that I was the family you loved. And then, you left me. You chose your family over me. I don't hate you, I don't hate _San_ , because I know you. We grew up together, you were my best friend, my _family._ I loved you. And you were good," San shifts, heart pierced with every single word. In past tense. Wooyoung is talking about what they were, but aren't anymore. What he felt, but not anymore. "I hate _Choi San_. I hate the fucking gifted exorcist, the next head of the family, the liar. You lied to me. The Jung Family was always a threat to the Choi Family. You were healers, we were the strength. With my family wiped out your family rekindled. I hate the way you choose the exorcists over me."

Wooyoung's voice breaks as he goes and San knows if he looks up, he will find tears hanging from his eyelashes. So he shrinks deeper, trying to keep his breathing steady. He takes a hand to his chest, fingers creasing the white camisole. 

_I deserve this._

"I hate that I can't hate San," Wooyoung adds, a choked-out sob alerting San. Moving fast, breaking his own promise (again), looking up. He gets all the pain splattered in Wooyoung's expression. "You're no good to me."

"I know," San's voice comes out raspy.

"I want you to promise me," Wooyoung moves forward, raising a pinky in front of San, tears furrowing the skin of his cheeks. San's breathing gets hitched somewhere between his lungs and lips, burning him from the inside. "Leave me the fuck alone. If you couldn't keep the promise of being with me, then I don't want you to keep coming around like you care. It's obvious the only thing you care about is your prestige."

Wooyoung's words feel like daggers nailing on his skin. Moving through muscle and bone like he is made of melted butter. Easy.

Getting everything so wrong.

_It's not that._

San gasps, the air refusing to leave his lungs, airways plugged. The run-down part where his heart lies trembles again, threatening him with a new collapsing. 

Wooyoung's pinky is wrapping around his own in no time. San squeals, already feeling the burning tears crowded behind his eyes. 

"Promise me. That you will leave me alone."

_I wanted to protect you._

San feels the smallest he has ever felt in years under Wooyoung's stern gaze. Because those aren't Wooyoung's eyes at all. They are not the same, Wooyoung's eyes, but themselves as well.

The excruciating pain stealing all the air digs a hole in the middle of his chest and then, San is feeling numb. A quiet voice speaking from the deepest part of his mind. _Just tell him_ , it seems to be saying. 

"Do you want to know why I broke our promise?" He breathes, and Wooyoung's face breaks in front of his eyes. He is left alone with the rage, the hold around his pinky getting tight to the point it hurts. But San deserves it, he thinks. "If you don't want to know, then I'll promise to leave you alone for good. But if you want to know, if I tell you everything, you will be the one promising me. That nothing will change."

"What do you mean?" Wooyoung groans, highly confused.

San parts his lips, taking as much air as he can to satiate his body's demands, but it ends up seeping through that new hole ripping skin and bone.

_Tell him and he will be free. He will stop hurting._

"Do you want to know or not?"

San never wanted Wooyoung to hurt. 

Wooyoung's eyes pierce him. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. Then, he is letting go. Moving back to his original position, crossing his arms tighter this time. The veins on his neck pop when he talks. He is mad.

Wooyoung is always so mad. And San deserves that, too. 

"Do tell."

"Wooyoung-ah," San cries, lurching upright until he is standing in front of him. Pinky in the air. "Promise me. That nothing will change." 

"San," his own name, that used to sound like music coming from Wooyoung's lips, sounds cold and broken now. "Whatever you have to tell won't mean a thing to me. It's been nine years. I don't think there's a reason big enough to change my mind."

San's hand falls, and he is back to the bed. He crawls to the middle of the white ocean of silky sheets, arms around his knees, trying to plug the whole and keep all his pieces together inside. There is a reason. And San has never told anyone about it. Not even Jongho. Only his father knows about it, and just because he was the one telling him. Wooyoung wasn't supposed to know it, but San can see all the damage he caused back then. Wooyoung _needs_ to know. 

In order to heal.

Just so the memory of San finally vanishes from his mind and he flies free. 

"You know," San starts, voice below a whisper, gaze on his own bare toes, "I wasn't supposed to be an exorcist at all. I was born out of normal humans. A family of eight. My parents were poor, they couldn't take care of another child, so they abandoned me in the mountains. A newborn, all alone, waiting to die just right after tasting life. Obviously I don't have memories of that time, but my father told me. I was attacked by a demon. There's venom in my blood. I would've died out there if the Choi Family hadn't found me."

San peeks through his lashes. Wooyoung's rage has vanished, expresion twisted with concern now. His arms hand loose at each side of his body. The silence hangs so heavy San can feel it on his hunched shoulders, sinking him down.

It's weird. Telling Wooyoung about his life feels weird. Because Wooyoung was supposed to know every line of it. He ended up missing everything. 

"There's a seal in my heart," San admits, and Wooyoung's eyes open wide, alarm ringing on the soft brown of his irises. "I'm walking on borrowed time. I am trapped, literally caged. My father was the one casting the seal. He gave me life, and he can kill me just as fast. The venom is still there, once the seal is broken I guess I'll have five? Ten minutes before my heart is stopping?" San shakes his head, throat parched. "My body was so small back then, this was the only solution they found in order to give me a life. I am not really gifted," he chuckles, Wooyoung's words resonating within himself. _The gifted exorcist._ All fake. "I am just a corpse."

Wooyoung doesn't say a thing. San keeps talking, sauntering around all the memories from back then. 

"I asked you to sleep with me that night."

It happened early in the year. Namhae was covered in snow and the Choi Family had just announced the future head of the family. San. San who just wanted to run away and be free. San who couldn't say no to whatever his father asked for. San was trapped. He was devastated, but Wooyoung was there. Wooyoung was always there, making everything easy. Holding his hand and kissing his cheeks when no one was looking. When San asked him to stay the night, sleep in each other's arms and forget about the world where they managed to find each other, Wooyoung didn't doubt. 

And that same night, the Jung House was set in a fire as white as the snow crunching underneath their feet. Everyone but Wooyoung died. Wooyoung's fate was to die that night between the eternal white flares that still crackle inside both their heads. And sometimes, going through all the years they've spent apart from each other, San comes around the thought that it would have been for the best if Wooyoung just died that night. 

That way, San would've been free. Without Wooyoung, what's the point of living a life that isn't his? A life he doesn't deserve, because his fate was to die before meeting Wooyoung. 

"It was my fault that your heart broke. I was the one making you stand before death. Because of me, you saw your entire family die. You were left all alone. And when you asked me to go with you, to join the hunters to kill the _White Flamed Demon_ , I wanted to go. I really wanted to go with you, but my father would've broken the seal. I would've died. You don't deserve that, Woo. You don't deserve to be responsible for my death." 

San sees the world through warm tears, blurry, and for a second, the only thing he listens to is his own heart. Beating. He has a heart beating, echoing in the darkness. But for how long? 

Then, his body is being pushed down. He squeals in surprise, one of Wooyoung's hands on his shoulders, fingers painfully digging in his skin. The other one, moving upon San's chest. Eyes golden.

An exorcist sign forming out of a trembling hand. 

It's been nine years since Wooyoung resigned to the exorcist inside of him. San closes his eyes. Of course, he wouldn't believe him. Sometimes, San doesn't believe it either. He sits in bed and believes his father made up that story to have him secured next to him until he died out of natural causes. Caged inside his own body. But then he sees the scar in the mirror. 

White and fading, curling all over his chest. Claws scratching soft skin, trying to reach his heart.

Sometimes, San thinks his father was watching. That he waited for the demon to attack him, just to have an excuse to use the seal on him. And that's cruel. 

"You're telling the truth," Wooyoung's voice breaks, body tumbling down on top of San.

San knows he just saw the seal, the same way San saw the one patching Yunho's power. Maybe that's why San got so invested in knowing what Yunho is hiding underneath it. Because they seem to be similar in some way.

"There are demons in the mountain," Wooyoung mumbles, forehead pressed down his chest. San opens his eyes to look at the white ceiling. His heart is pounding, and how happily it sounds. To feel Wooyoung all over his skin again. "You were talking about you, right?"

San blinks, one hand hosted in the air at Wooyoung's back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A sob shakes Wooyoung's shoulders. San wants to pull him closer, hug him, come back to what they used to be even when he doesn't want anything to change. Or maybe, maybe he does. But he doesn't want Wooyoung to fall back into his arms like nothing happened. He wants Wooyoung to stop hurting. To live the life San unconsciously managed to give him.

He desires nothing but Wooyoung to bloom. 

"You are dying?" Wooyoung asks, lurching up, both hands falling on San's face. Eyes golden. The air around them has turned thick, sticky. San's chest is still having problems pushing the air down his lungs. 

"I am not. Don't cry," San raises a hand, thumb brushing the tears away. "I didn't tell you because I want you to pity me–"

Wooyoung interrupts him, one hand clasping on San's lips. 

"You asked me to stay, because you couldn't leave. You never meant to break our promise."

San sweeps his hand up, fingers burning when he touches Wooyoung's skin, pulling his hand aside. 

"Exorcists don't break promises," San tries to smile, but it all finally collapses. The tears roll down his face and soon the image of Wooyoung is vanishing. 

Their bodies glue together and after nine years, Wooyoung is pulling him into a hug. Hearts beating at the same erratic pace. 

Again. 

﹢

San walks Wooyoung home.

For the first twenty minutes, they don't say a single thing. Maybe, because they spent half an hour crying on each other's arms. Maybe, because after everything San told him, Wooyoung lost all his doors.

They're not there anymore. Wooyoung knows he won't be able to go back to the person he was two days ago. And this time, time seems to go faster than his own mind. Leaving him behind, alone and confused, in a world he has been blindly walking for the past nine years. 

Just how fast everything can change.

"What will happen when your father dies?" Wooyoung finds himself asking in a whisper, standing in front of Changbin's building. His shoes scuff the ground underneath them. The sky is glowing in the same colors Wooyoung has vividly playing at the roar of his mind.

The same sky they sealed their very first promise under. In front of him, San looks older, and taller, and bigger, but the sun keeps on making artworks out of his mottled skin. There's a tattoo with his own name covering the freckles now. _Stupid_ , Wooyoung thinks. 

This San is not his San.

But his heart is still the same. A heart that beats for Wooyoung. 

_What an idiot you are,_ Wooyoung thinks. 

"I think he will tell Jongho, and then he will be the one deciding for me," San smiles tenderly. "We haven't really talked about this. He just wants me to take care of the family when he is not here."

"Why you?" Wooyoung doesn't care how pained his voice sounds. "You have older brothers. Jongho's even more suitable. Why you?"

"Because I was born human, Wooyoung." San takes a hand to his chest, laying where his heart is. "All the power I have is artificial, and it's my father's. It's an exact copy. That's why I am _gifted_. I am just his puppet."

Wooyoung always had that feeling that San was different from the rest. San wasn't like the other kids learning how to cast spells and invoke seals. San was top of the class, everything was so easy for him it was maddening. But Wooyoung never got mad about it, because San walked around pouring magic. He poured magic inside of his own heart. 

It's sad how he is realizing everything was artificial just now.

San's nothing but a carcase overflowing with magic. It's the magic what keeps him alive, and magic is not eternal. 

Wooyoung can't help but break even more. He was supposed to protect San, but it always was the other way around. 

San was supposed to die way before Wooyoung was even breathing the cold air of this world. That was his fate. Somehow, he lived, he lived to save Wooyoung's own life, that was supposed to end that fateful night where the white fire illuminated the sky.

San lived, so Wooyoung could live.

"What if I change the seal?" He blurts, San's eyes filling with surprise. "What if I am the one casting the seal?"

"And link our lives together?" San chuckles.

"Give you a chance," Wooyoung takes a big mouthful of air, hurting on the way down, caressing all his broken parts. He is filled with sharp glass. "You deserve a chance to live your own life, San." 

San ducks his head low, then he places one hand on Wooyoung's cheek. His fingers are cold, or maybe it's just the way Wooyoung's entire body is burning. His head pounds from all the crying, and all the information. And all the lies. His entire life has been a lie. 

"I gave you a lot of pain, Wooyoung. The way I made you suffer, not only in the past but just two nights ago, that will always stain my soul in black," San sniffles, hand falling. "I deserve this."

"You don't."

"I had a good life," the smile curling on San's lips is different. It's warm, but at the same time it twines around Wooyoung's neck like a snake, slowly taking the life out of him. "Thanks to this seal, I was able to live more than a few hours. I was able to meet you. I was able to experience happiness. Exorcists' lives are painted in pristine white, but you colored me in all the colors of the rainbow. You gave me everything, and then I destroyed it. I deserve this."

Wooyoung parts his lips, the air rasping his throat when the words don't form. There's an incessant pain in the middle of his chest. One of the sharp pieces of glass sinking deeper. And it has San's name.

Wooyoung swears all the lukewarm water shaping him finds a way out through his eyes.

"Don't cry," San admonishes, but he does in such a sweet voice it ends up sounding like a plea. 

"Sannie," Wooyoung calls, cheeks wet, saltiness meeting his lips. San's eyelids flutter, a soft smile pulling from the corners of his lips. "Thank you."

_Thank you for staying alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not at woosan being melodramatic underneath the sunset when they are literally going to share a flat sigh
> 
> If you feel the woosan story is rushed think about yunwoosan, they won't be able to be together until woosan are cool and yuyu's demon is out :D now we only got one thing to go
> 
> thanks for reading!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> present [moodboard](https://twitter.com/jaeminsani/status/1353356806014296064) !!
> 
> I've also changed the summary bc when I posted it I wasn't thinking of turning it into an angsty fic but I've come to the realization that this hurts me and I want it to be a more serious fic
> 
> [update 10/2] to everyone reading: I'm taking a break from writing bc of two big reasons. The first, classes are back and I'm graduating college this year so I need to focus on my final thesis. The second, ⭐ the writers block ⭐. I'm writing this story for myself first and if I don't like it, I won't post it and lately I can't bring myself to write. I don't know when will chapter 6 be finished, it's okay if you forget about this story. I'll be back eventually!! Have a marvellous day <3


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